


Finding Light in the Darkness

by Ultra



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Time Travel, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dancing, Drama & Romance, Dreams, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Family Feels, Family Issues, Feelings, Freedom, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Good Intentions, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Languages and Linguistics, Love Letters, Lucy Preston's Journal, Marriage Proposal, Mystery, Premarital Sex, Recovery, References to Illness, Romance, Secrets, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: 19th Century AU. Miss Lucy Preston has been warned about accepting an offer of employment at Tempus Manor. Rumours are rife about the man of the house, but she is unafraid. Lucy needs work, as well as a place to hide, if she's honest. Running away to the house on the hill to educate young Iris could be the ideal escape, but perhaps as many secrets lie in the past of the mysterious Mr Flynn as in Lucy's own. Perhaps, in time, they could be each other's salvation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'm doing with this. The idea came to me and when I talked about it on Twitter (in vague terms), I got encouragement to go ahead and write it, so here it is. I may continue it if anyone wants to read it. I might even if they don't, for my own amusement, but I don't know yet. Comments gratefully received (and actively encouraged) if you have any thoughts you'd like to share.

There were a lot of stories told about the house on the hill. Actually, most stories were much more about the man who lived in the house rather than the building itself, but none of it really mattered to her anyway.

Lucy Preston was what society liked to call an intellectual, at least to her face. When they thought she couldn’t hear, she was a bluestocking. Nevertheless, she was a woman of books and facts. She had no time for ridiculous rumours and tall tales about a man that was probably no better or worse than any other she had met to date. Besides, Lucy needed the work, and a place to hide, if she were honest. Tempus Manor ought to suit her perfectly, regardless of its owner.

“I still think you’re making a big mistake.”

Lucy fought the urge to roll her eyes at her driver as the carriage came to a halt a short distance from the large and imposing house. 

“If I am, then it’s my business,” she said cuttingly, moving to get down from the seat but prevented from it by an unexpected hand on her arm.

“Lucy...”

His eyes were imploring when she met them momentarily. She used to find the blue of them so intoxicating once. Things changed.

“Thank you for your help, Mr Logan,” she said pointedly, pulling her sleeve from his grasp before turning to drop gracelessly from the high seat to the ground and very nearly landing on her rear. Bag grasped tight in her hands, she righted herself and looked up at Wyatt, her mouth held in a tight line, even as she spoke again. “Please send my best regards to your wife.”

Wyatt sighed and tipped his hat. “Good luck, ma’am,” he said with a look Lucy chose to ignore, before his eyes flitted up to the imposing building beyond. “I think you’re going to need it.”

The next moment, he was calling for the horses to walk on, turning the carriage around and heading back down the path. Within a minute, he was out of sight, leaving Lucy alone with the great manor house and those who lived within.

“Okay,” she said to herself. “Here we go.”

Taking a deep breath, she moved up close to the front door and used both hands to pull on the cord and ring the bell. Immediately, she reached into her bag for the letter informing her she had gotten the job here, and then she waited, straight backed, chin tilted up, for whoever might answer the door.

“Hello, sir,” she greeted the man who soon appeared. “My name is Lucy Preston. I believe you’re expecting me,” she said, proffering the letter in her hand as proof.

The cold-eyed man took the paper, cast his eyes over it and then Lucy herself, before nodding once and handing the letter back to her.

“Come in,” he said sharply.

Lucy did as she was asked, following the stranger through a large foyer and into a drawing room.

“Wait here,” he told her, backing out of the room and pulling the door almost closed behind him.

“Thank you,” she called after him, “I think,” she added, frowning a little as she was left alone.

She had been in her fair share of richly furnished houses and this one didn’t seem so different to the others. It had all the items one might expect to be present, including paintings on the walls of beautiful landscapes of places she failed to recognise as anywhere she had seen before in her home country. Her new employer was said to be from Europe and she stared hard at the nearest framed painting, wondering if perhaps the scene was from his own homeland. She was still staring when the door opened behind her and she jumped at the sound of footsteps approaching. Her hand was at her heart as she turned to look, all the breath leaving her body as the imposing figure of a very tall, smartly dressed man stared down at her.

“If my man Karl is to be believed, you are Miss Preston,” he said, nodding slightly. “I am Mr Flynn.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” she replied politely, expecting him to take her offered hand and yet both of his remained clasped together behind his back. “I, uh... You were expecting me today, I hope?” she checked.

“I was,” he told her, nodding once more, his eyes seeming to take her in by degrees in such a way that made Lucy feel uncertain. “You have documents to show me?”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy immediately confirmed, reaching for her bag and rifling through the contents for her certificates and letters that she was sure she had laid on top. “Here they are. I’m so sorry, sir,” she apologised, trying in vain to flatten out the crumpled sheets before placing them in his hand.

“I actually prefer to be addressed by my name, if you don’t mind,” he told her, though his eyes were fixed on the papers rather than Lucy herself. “Mr Flynn is just fine.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied like a reflex before wincing as he frowned at her. “Mr Flynn. I apologise, again. In my previous employment, I was required to use sir and madam for my employers.”

“Well, you don’t work for them anymore,” he reminded her, what looked like a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips as he went back to reviewing Lucy’s papers.

When his gaze returned to her face, seeming to study her closely, Lucy almost felt like asking if there was some kind of problem. She didn’t quite get the chance before he spoke again.

“Aren’t you a little young to be such an accomplished teacher?”

Lucy wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or affronted. “Age doesn’t have all that much to do with education, in my experience,” she said smoothly, mindful of seeming either too cocky or worse in any way weak in front of him. “There are men and women older than I am, and yet they don’t know half as much, and probably some who are younger that know much more.”

“Well, my daughter requires a full education,” said Mr Flynn, handing the papers back to their owner. “Some of the schools I looked into do not seem to think a woman needs an education at all. My daughter will learn all that she needs to learn, and then all she wishes to learn. Is that clear?”

“I understand, Mr Flynn.” Lucy nodded, trying in vain to hide a smile that would not be contained.

“Did I say something amusing, Miss Preston?” he asked, head tilting slightly as he observed her.

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, trying not to be flustered by the intensity of his gaze - it did not come easy. “I just... There are so few men who believe a woman worthy of education at all. If they do, it’s generally only basic skills that they would have their daughters or wives learn.”

“Your own father must have believed in education for all.”

“Not exactly, but I am educated, obviously. English, French, mathematics, geography, and history... well, history is my greatest passion,” she admitted, with a smile she had no wish to hold back this time around.

“You speak of American history?” asked Mr Flynn, his expression unreadable.

“For the most part,” Lucy confirmed, eyes flitting to the painting that held so much of her attention before, “but I’m always trying to expand my knowledge on world history too. I’m not foolish, Mr Flynn. As much as I love my country, I do know the world doesn’t begin and end with America.”

“Well, apparently, you are an interesting woman, Miss Preston. I don’t believe I have met another quite like you.”

The expression on his face and the tone in his voice were such that Lucy wasn’t quite sure what to think. The question of whether she should be flattered or offended floated in her mind once more, yet she still wasn’t given the chance to ask it.

A sharp knock on the door prompted Mr Flynn to ask whoever was there to come in. He seemed to be expecting the young woman, who may even have been younger than Lucy herself, and was completely unphased by her boss’ seemingly cool manner.

“You will show Miss Preston to her room now, make sure she is comfortable and understands the rules of the house,” he told her.

“Yes, Mr Flynn,” she replied, nodding her head rather than bobbing a curtsey as Lucy might have expected.

Before she could think about it too much, her attention was taken again by Mr Flynn as he swept out of the room with a purpose. He seemed to do everything that way. It was very distracting and, quite honestly, not unattractive.

Lucy felt all the air rush out of her lungs when he was gone, as if she could suddenly allow herself to relax a little. The comfortable feeling that came over her only grew when the woman in front of her smiled a warm, friendly smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” said Lucy awkwardly.

“It’s Jiya,” she said, continuing to smile. “Officially, Miss Marri, but we don’t really do that here, except for Mr Flynn, obviously.”

“Then you should call me Lucy. After all, I want to fit in.” 

“I’m sure you will. Mr Flynn likes you already, so that’s a good sign,” Jiya insisted, stooping to pick up Lucy’s bag for her and lead her from the room to the stairs.

“You can tell that he likes me?” Lucy shook her head as she trailed behind her new acquaintance who she hoped might yet become a friend. “I wasn’t so sure myself.”

“You’ll get used to him,” said Jiya with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Honestly, the fact he didn’t throw you out five seconds after you walked in proves something. You’re the eighth teacher he hired in the last month. Nobody has lasted more than a week. Like I said, a couple of them were barely here a minute.”

Lucy’s eyes were wide and she ceased walking altogether as they reached the second landing. Jiya turned back to look at her and only smiled wider.

“You really don’t have to worry,” she promised. “You’ll do fine. I have a good feeling about you and I’m almost never wrong about these things.”

Jiya turned to continue walking and Lucy made herself follow, even though she was getting a terrible urge to run already. She had become quite adept at that, running away, or at the very least walking quickly in the opposite direction. It was her fondest hope that she wouldn’t need to do that here, that maybe, just maybe, Tempus Manor might be a place where she could belong for a good long while.

When Jiya suddenly opened a door and announced that Lucy’s room lay beyond, she was more sure than ever that she wanted to stay.

“This isn’t exactly staff quarters,” she said, shaking her head as she looked around the fairly large room, stylishly furnished and beautiful to her eyes.

“Mr Flynn is a good employer. He believes all people have worth,” Jiya explained. “Obviously, none of us expect to live quite as well as he and his daughter do, but we’re not downtrodden slaves or anything.”

Lucy was in awe. The tales she had heard about Mr Flynn, some would call him a monster, a madman, others at least made him sound like a strict and stern man, practically a recluse too. Lucy realised too quickly that it wasn’t just that there was very little truth in the rumours, there really was none at all, at least, that was how it seemed so far.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in,” said Jiya then. “The staff actually eat before the family here, otherwise it can get too late. I can come get you in an hour, give you a tour of the place, then answer any questions over dinner.”

Lucy smiled. “You’re very kind.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Unless you plan on giving me a reason not to like you.” Jiya shrugged. “Trust me, there’s no one here that doesn’t understand what it is to be judged, pushed out, treated badly,” she explained. “Something tells me you understand that feeling too.”

“More than you’d think.” Lucy nodded.

“It’s not like that here,” said Jiya definitely. “Welcome to Tempus Manor, Lucy,” she added then, backing out of the room and leaving her alone.

Lucy turned back around and surveyed the room once more, feeling as overwhelmed as she had from the first moment she arrived and finally allowing herself to own it once the door to her own space was closed behind her.

It was a lot to take in, a new home, a new family to become a part of, but so far, so good. My Flynn seemed as if he could be quite intimidating if he wanted to be, but if she never gave him a reason for it, Lucy had a feeling they could probably get along well enough. Not that she thought to see too much of him. He would be busy with his own affairs and she would mostly be spending time with Miss Iris Flynn, teaching her as she was employed to do, or with the staff, like Jiya, who seemed very friendly.

“A new life,” Lucy said to herself, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Away from everything and everyone I know.”

It was supposed to be a positive change, after all she had been through, but all the memories that flooded into her mind were still very nearly enough to drown poor Lucy if she let them. There was so much she wanted to put behind her, so much more she regretted having lost, and yet she had no choice in either. She cried because she couldn’t help it, letting all her weakness show only in the privacy of this room. In an hour, she would be ready to continue forward, trying to keep the looking back to a minimum. She couldn’t think of a better place than this for a new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the initial idea for this came to me after reading copious amounts of Timeless fanfiction and then watching 'The King & I' (and yes, I'm aware how odd that sounds! lol). 'Pride & Prejudice' also started creeping in as I began writing, as well as a little 'Sound of Music' and 'Beauty & The Beast' as I made notes for possible future chapters. I feel so out of my depth right now, and yet... Your (kind and/or constructive) comments please?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some people actually read this and liked it - that’s cool. Thanks to those that left comments. By all means keep your opinions coming :) The Jane Eyre thing surprised me, but only because I’m not a big fan and am not overly familiar with the story (saw a film version once, wasn’t crazy about it). I guess I kind of see where that’s coming from though.

The first evening at Tempus Manor had been surprisingly pleasant. Jiya had been especially kind to Lucy, showing her around the relevant parts of the house and grounds, giving her a run-down of the way things ran there. When dinner time came, she was introduced to the rest of the staff, which seemed small to her, given the size of the place.

“Half the house never really gets used,” Jiya had explained. “There’s only Mr Flynn and Miss Iris here and we almost never have overnight guests. There are business associates who call for meetings, but mostly it’s Mr Flynn who goes to them more than the other way around.”

It all made perfect sense to Lucy, though she still had questions she wanted to ask. Since she felt so comfortable with Jiya, she did venture one or two enquiries, though the short answers she received stopped her from asking anymore. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked what happened to Mrs Flynn, but there had to have been one at some point or Iris wouldn’t be there, at least, she assumed.

“She died,” Jiya told her fast, changing the subject before Lucy could blink.

By this morning, when she joined the staff once again for breakfast, her confidence was back enough to ask what she assumed was a safer question, about the informality of the house in general.

“I mean, the guy who answered the door, Karl, I think? He seemed pretty... abrupt, but everybody else is so friendly, and Mr Flynn really didn’t want me to call him ‘sir’.”

“He’s easy-going about that kind of thing,” said Jiya with a knowing smile. “No bowing and scraping, just a general respect for his position is fine. That means no ‘sir’, no curtseys, no eyes down on the carpet in case you accidentally look him in the eye. He really doesn’t like that sort of behaviour.”

Lucy so wanted to ask why. Her curious nature meant she had a million questions about the mysterious Mr Flynn, and yet it seemed she was going to have to learn as she went along, no short cuts here. Jiya would only say so much and as friendly as the rest of the staff seemed to be, she didn’t know them well enough yet to force information out of them by friendly means or otherwise.

“Don’t worry about Karl,” Jiya had said as an after-thought. “He’s... Well, officially, he’s Mr Flynn’s valet, but he tends to think of himself as more. The indispensable right-hand man,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “You probably noticed, he won’t even eat with us lowly souls, but he shouldn’t bother you. His bark is worse than his bite.”

“I’ll try to remember.” Lucy smiled, sure she could take care of herself well enough, especially now she knew she didn’t have to worry too much.

After breakfast, Jiya took her to a room that had been designated the school room to meet Miss Iris Flynn. It was much more grand than Lucy might have imagined, with groaning bookshelves filling one wall, a piano in the far corner, and a large globe in another. In the centre of the room were two desks with fine highbacked chairs just waiting for teacher and scholar to take their positions and begin the process of learning.

Lucy didn’t have much planned for the first day. She told Iris as much when they met, explaining that she hoped only that they might get to know each other a little, and establish what her new student already knew so they could make a plan for teaching her what she still had to learn.

As far as Lucy could tell, Iris was a sweet, happy child of nine years old, and so eager to learn. For one so young, she seemed to know an awful lot already, despite the suggestion it had been tough to keep a teacher long enough for her to learn anything from them. Lucy could only assume she was at least somewhat self-taught and perhaps even that her father had played his part in her early education.

“How about languages?” Lucy asked, making a note on her paper about Iris’ excellent English skills and wonderful vocabulary. “Do you speak any French yet?”

“Un petit peu,” the little girl confessed, holding her thumb and index finger barely an inch apart.

Lucy smiled at the suddenly nervous expression on the child’s face.

“It’s fine,” she promised her. “We can work on that later,” she said, making another note.

“Govorim hrvatski, jer jedan jezik nikad nije dovoljan.”

It was hard for Lucy not to show on her face how taken-aback she was by the foreign words spilling from the child’s mouth. It was certainly no language she recognised and yet somehow, she knew it was being spoken well, without concern for any part being incorrect.

“What was that?” she asked curiously, unable to keep from smiling as Iris giggled happily.

“Croatian,” she explained. “Papa is from the kingdom of Croatia in Eastern Europe. I’ll show you,” she said, getting up and rushing over to the impressively large globe across the room. She waited until Lucy joined her and then put her finger onto the correct spot. “He brought me here, all the way across the ocean,” she continued, tracing a line across the Atlantic to America. “It was after Mama...”

Lucy looked from Iris’ finger on the globe to her face that was now pinched with worry or pain, she was unsure which.

The little girl shook her head then. “I remember her, but not very much,” she admitted, free hand going to the locket at her neck and prising it open, holding it up for Lucy to see the pictures inside.

One was Mr Flynn, looking a little younger than he did now, and the other was presumably his late wife.

“She was very beautiful.” Lucy smiled at Iris. “You know you look at lot like her.”

“Papa says that.” Iris smiled back, closing the locket back up and going back to her seat with Lucy following. “Do you have a family?”

There was a myriad of answers to that question and Lucy barely knew where to begin. The truth was always best, she knew, and phrased that truth as plainly as possible.

“No, not anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” said Iris sadly, though Lucy was uncertain whether she was sympathising or apologising until she continued softly; “Papa says I ask too many questions.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy promised, patting Iris’ hand on the table until the child looked up at her again. “Besides... Well, I don’t want to go against your father’s wishes, but I think asking questions is a good thing. How else are we supposed to learn?” she asked, shaking her head. “I’ll make a deal with you, Iris, if you ever have any questions at all, about anything, you can always ask me, and I will try to give you the most honest answer I can.”

“Thank you, Miss Preston,” she said, smiling again by now as she nodded her head once.

Lucy smiled back at her, it was hard not to. “Please, we’re going to be friends, aren’t we? I’d like for you to call me Lucy.”

If possible, the little girl’s grin only grew. “You can call me Iris.”

“Well, I’m not sure if your father would-”

“He won’t care,” she insisted, unwilling to hear any protests from Lucy apparently. “Not when I tell him I asked you to.”

“Alright, Iris,” she said, nodding her head. “Now, why don’t we move on to what you know about my favourite subject, history?”

* * *

Lucy could never exactly be accused of being graceful. In fact, she was fairly well-known for her clumsy nature, especially when she allowed herself to become distracted by deep thought. Such it was on this occasion as she made plans in her head for how she would go about teaching Iris all that she wanted and needed to learn. Lucy really didn’t expect to run across anybody on the way back to her room, until suddenly she misjudged the top of the stairs and saw the floor rushing up to meet her face.

There was a good chance the squeak she heard came from her own throat, but the impact never happened. It was only when the panic subsided that Lucy realised she was being held in place by a pair of strong arms and someone was saying her name with no lack of concern.

“Miss Preston, are you alright?”

“Um, yes. Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she assured her employer, setting herself straight and disentangling herself from his grasp, a shiver running through her as his hands slipped away. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t concentrating.”

“That’s quite alright,” Mr Flynn assured her. “Just so long as you’re not hurt?”

“I promise, I’m fine,” she repeated, smoothing her hands over her skirts as if reassuring herself she was all still there.

Lucy suddenly didn’t feel so stable and it didn’t seem to have as much to do with her near-miss than with the man standing in front of her.

“Well, the last couple of moments aside, my daughter tells me you had quite the successful first day.”

“Yes, sir... Mr Flynn,” she corrected herself fast, eyes closing a moment as she winced at her reflexive response that she knew he did not care for. “Iris is quite the young lady. I, uh... I don’t know if she mentioned to you... I told her I was comfortable with her calling me by my given name, if she wanted to, and she granted me the same permission,” she explained too quickly, reminding herself to breathe before she continued. “I hope you don’t find that too unprofessional?”

“If it makes you both more comfortable, I have no reason to find fault,” Mr Flynn confirmed, though he must have noticed by then that Lucy was feeling out of sorts and barely looking at him at all. “You know, I am starting to think I make you nervous, Miss Preston.”

She made a point of meeting his eyes then, though quite honestly, within a moment, she wished she hadn’t done it. Lucy had almost managed to convince herself that she had imagined how piercing his gaze really was, but no. Those dark eyes of his were dangerously intense somehow. It was something she felt she could learn to love and hate in equal measure.

“No, not nervous,” she tried to tell him, even as she fought to keep the shake out of her voice. “It’s just... I just...”

“You’re in a new place, amongst new people.” Mr Flynn nodded his head, those hands that had steadied her a minute before now clasped behind his back once again, though she was still strangely aware of them somehow. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not, honestly,” she said too strongly, especially given how she was really feeling right now. “I’m sorry too,” she apologised, realising that, much like with Iris, only the truth was going to get her through the rest of this conversation, as well as her acquaintance with Mr Flynn in general. “You know, before I came here... I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, but there were certain rumours flying around, as there always are,” she explained. “I just didn’t know what to expect.”

Mr Flynn stared at her in that disarming way he had and this time Lucy forced herself not to look away, especially given the nature of their conversation.

“And yet, you came anyway,” he noted with no small amount of wonder, it seemed. “In spite of the fact that many of the locals believe I am, what? A vampire? A monster? A lunatic?” he said each word with an over-dramatic tone and a hint of a smirk that Lucy couldn’t help but find a little amusing - Iris had a look that was not dissimilar when she made a joke.

“I don’t think I heard any of those words specifically,” Lucy assured him, “but you’ve clearly heard the tales too.”

“Of course,” Mr Flynn agreed. “And most people believe what they are told.”

“I’m not most people,” said Lucy without a moment’s pause. “Besides, I like to check my sources of information. There aren’t too many of the locals, as you call them, who I’d be willing to put my faith in, not without hard evidence anyway.”

“And this you don’t have, Miss Preston?” asked Mr Flynn, everything about his looks and tone a challenge as far as Lucy could tell, one she was happy to rise to.

“Not so far,” she confirmed, tiling her chin. “I mean, you haven’t tried to drink my blood yet, so vampire is out, at least.”

His smirk became almost a genuine smile at those words, his eyebrows rushing up towards his hairline with surprise as well as amusement. Lucy felt strangely victorious for all of a few seconds, before heavy footsteps on the stairs took her attention, as well as her employer’s own.

“Mr Flynn,” said the grave looking manservant, cutting his eyes at Lucy before returning to the man in question. “You have a visitor,” he said pointedly.

“Thank you, Karl.” Mr Flynn nodded once, dismissing his valet and turning towards the stairs to follow him down. At the last, he looked back at Lucy. “I’m glad you have had a pleasant first day with us, Miss Preston.”

“Thank you, Mr Flynn,” she replied with a smile, but his own expression was stony by now and made her shiver in a way that was much less pleasant than before.

* * *

A strange crashing sound woke Lucy from fitful sleep. She sat up in her bed and squinted across at the clock. The moonlight trickling in between the curtains lit the face, showing her it was not long past midnight. Lucy swallowed hard, one hand covering her heart that pounded frantically beneath her palm. Two or three deep breaths gave her enough strength to dive from her bed and move to the door to listen for further noise, but there was nothing. Crossing to the window, she peeked around the curtains to see outside, but there was nothing there either, only dark shadows and pale moonlight, not a sign of movement, not a sound to be heard but the wind in the trees, an owl passing in the distance with a lonesome hooting cry.

“Just a dream,” she muttered to herself, returning to her bed and shifting down beneath the covers ready to resume sleep.

She had been thinking too much about the rumours surrounding this house and those within it, Lucy knew. Her imagination was causing her worries and fears that were completely unfounded. There was nothing to fear at Tempus Manor, she was sure of it, or at least as sure as a stranger in a strange house could ever be. Lucy had no choice but to get used to the way things were, in any case. It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Croatian that Iris speaks: 'I speak Croatian, because one language is never enough.'  
(At least, that's what it's supposed to say...)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, people. I have a lot of ideas for this story, I'm just not quite sure how they're all going to fit in and play out, but I'll give it my best shot to keep on going for as long as there are people who want to read it :)

Lucy Preston flipped the pages of her journal and wondered at how many she had filled so far. Her eyes ran over the dates of each entry and she shook her head. Almost a full month since she first arrived at Tempus Manor. In some ways, it felt like such a short time, in others, as if she had been living there forever.

Iris was a wonderful student. Lucy smiled thinking of their lessons, how easy the little girl was to teach, how eager to learn she was. She took particular interest in history, which thrilled Lucy to no end, and excelled in her English and Mathematics too. Lucy had wondered if French would come easily to Iris or not, given she already spoke two languages. She did fairly well at handling a third, though there were times when she got muddled and Croatian words slipped in. Iris always looked guilty when it happened, at least to begin with, but Lucy never berated her too harshly and the two of them continued to get along famously.

As for Iris’ father, he didn’t seem to be around too much lately. Lucy knew from the staff that he was often on business trips, though no amount of careful prodding seemed to reveal exactly what Mr Flynn’s line of business was. There were times when Lucy thought perhaps it was unwise to be working for a man who could be in some kind of unspeakable trade, and yet, she remained at the house. If she found some concrete proof of wrongdoing then perhaps she would change her mind, but so far nothing. Even then, she wondered where her morals would have her run to.

The pages of Lucy’s journal flew through her fingers as she lost concentration. The book closed in her lap and she stared down at the leather cover, fingers tracing over her initials in the bottom right corner. If she continued to sit there and think so much, she was going to become melancholy and that was no good at all. Glancing at the clock, she found it was still a half hour until dinner time, but she figured she could always go down to the kitchens and see if she could make herself useful.

Her journal safely tucked away, Lucy rose from the edge of the bed, checked her appearance in the looking glass and moved towards the door. She stopped short of reaching for the handle and looked back at the nightstand where her journal lived before shaking her head and continuing forward. There was something she had meant to check about the regularity of her disturbed sleep.

That first night, something had woken her, a noise or a movement that she couldn’t quite identify. She had assumed she imagined it, dreamt it perhaps, but it had happened since then at least three times. Lucy wondered if it was always the same time or day and would have to check her journal to confirm it, but that would wait until later.

Headed downstairs, she entered the kitchens in time to see Jiya closing the back door with a thud. Her eyes darted around the room before landing on Lucy and she painted on a smile.

“You’re early,” she said, a shake in her voice. “Um, dinner isn’t ready.”

“I know.” Lucy nodded. “I just wondered if I could help but... Jiya, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jiya snapped. “Just fine, no problem. Uh, I don’t know if there’s anything for you to do, unless you want to lay out the knives and forks maybe?”

“Sure, I can do that, if you’re sure you’re okay?” Lucy double-checked.

There was a moment when Jiya’s eyes darted to the back door, when she almost seemed like maybe she was going to say something important, but then Karl appeared behind Lucy, startling them both.

“Mr Flynn has returned home early, but is going straight to bed,” he told Jiya shortly. “He’ll require the usual breakfast in the morning.”

“Understood,” Jiya told him and then he was gone again. “That man,” she said, rolling her eyes the moment he disappeared.

Before Lucy could ask another question or press Jiya further on what was really going on, her friend was rushing off to busy herself with her usual tasks. Lucy sighed, picked up the flatware and headed into the next room to lay the table, as agreed. She smiled at the thought of Mr Flynn being home early. That seemed to happen a lot, from what she heard. He would go off on one of his trips but almost always arrived back before he was expected. Iris often talked about how she missed Papa when he was gone and it made Lucy wonder if he missed his little girl too. To have a father, or any person, who loved you that much, that unconditionally, Lucy would give anything.

“Not going to happen,” she muttered to herself, setting a knife and fork at each place around the table.

She barely left the grounds of Tempus Manor since she arrived there, so she wasn’t likely to meet an eligible man. Not that she did so well with eligible. Thoughts of Wyatt Logan made her shake her head and force new topics to mind. Chatter from the maids about Mr Flynn’s return put Lucy’s thoughts back on her employer. It must be a week since she saw him last and even then, they didn’t have much of a conversation. He inquired after Iris’ progress and they mentioned the weather, Lucy recalled, but that was all. She wasn’t sure what else to expect from her employer exactly, but she never did mind running into him around the house. He seemed impressed by her intelligence and the fact she wasn’t afraid of him like so many others were. Lucy made a point of standing tall and speaking every word like she meant it when he was in front of her. She never could quite hold his gaze though. There was such an intensity in those eyes of his, Lucy could quite understand why some might find that overwhelming, even terrifying, though it didn’t exactly have that effect on her.

“Employer. He’s your employer, do not go down that road,” she told herself firmly.

“Did you say something, Lucy?” asked Jiya as she passed by her.

“Nothing that matters.” Lucy shook her head and smiled too widely until her friend left her be to get lost in her own thoughts again.

* * *

“Lucy?”

Iris’ small hand at her elbow snapped her out of a daze and Lucy shook her head. She stared at Iris a moment, realising she hadn’t a clue what the little girl had said at all. It took her some time to even recall what she had been doing before her mind wandered away from her. It had started happening just a little too often in the past few days.

“I’m so sorry,” she told Iris. “Could you repeat that?”

“I was just saying, it’s my birthday tomorrow. I’ll be ten years old.”

She said it with such joy and pride, Lucy marvelled at her happy expression. Iris was so lucky in so many ways. Lucy thought back to when she was ten and grimaced. She had been happy then too but how things had changed not long after. The ache in her heart made it as difficult to breathe as ever and she immediately shook it off.

“Ten years old,” she echoed, looking at Iris with a forced smile that she hoped the little girl wouldn’t notice. “You’ll be all grown up before we know it.”

“Not really.” Iris giggled. “But Papa promised me a new dress and we’re having all my favourite foods for dinner.”

“That sounds nice.” Lucy smiled more genuinely now, turning the page in her book and trying to find her place to continue the lesson.

“Um, Lucy? Would you come?”

“Would I...?” Lucy began, shaking her head.

“To dinner, for my birthday,” Iris explained. “I would love for you to and I know Papa wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, Iris, that’s such a lovely thought, but I can’t just... There are rules,” she told her carefully. “You and your father... I can’t, I have to eat with the other staff, you know that.”

“I know that’s how it usually is,” said Iris, nodding her head, “but it’s my birthday and I know if I talk to Papa, he’ll say it’s okay.”

Lucy wasn’t sure whether she believed that or not. Not that she ever really found Mr Flynn to be so unreasonable. For all the rumours she heard about the house and its owner, none had really proved to be true at all. In fact, Mr Flynn, with his insistence on calling the staff by their given names and never wanting to be called sir or bowed and curtsied too, was probably the most easy-going of employers Lucy had ever encountered. Still, she highly doubted he would want his daughter’s teacher to join them at the dinner table, and on such a special occasion too. That said, Iris looked so desperately hopeful, Lucy just didn’t know how to say no to her.

“I suppose if you asked him and he said yes, then... well, I would be honoured to share dinner with you on your birthday, Iris, thank you,” she said graciously. “I just... I’m not sure that Mr Flynn is going to approve.”

“You don’t know Papa like I do.” Iris grinned. “He will approve, for me.”

Lucy didn’t argue anymore, just brought Iris’ attention back to her studying until it was time to call it a day. Still, it played on her mind for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Dinner with Iris and Mr Flynn might be alright, nice even, though she wondered what on earth she would wear or how she would behave.

“I guess I’ll just do my best and hope it’s good enough, like always,” she said to herself, opening up her journal to write about the day’s events before bed.

Turning up the lamp, she picked up her pen and added a few lines to the clean space on the page, and when she was done, recalled her want to go back and see if there was any connection between the nights she had been woken by strange sounds.

Lucy frowned as she noted the dates. It was once a week, almost like clockwork, and always at a similarly late hour of the night. If she had it right, she expected to hear the same noises again tonight. Her eyes went to the clock and she noted it was only ten o’clock. She should at least sleep for a few hours before the usual commotion, though Lucy knew uncovering regularity in the disturbances didn’t prove what was causing it.

A knock on the door startled her so much, Lucy almost fell off the edge of the bed. It was rare for anyone to come looking for her in her own chamber, rarer still for it to be so late. Ensuring her dressing gown was tied securely, she crept to the door and reached a shaking hand to the handle.

“Hello?” she called hesitantly.

“My apologies for the intrusion, Miss Preston, but if I could have a word with you?”

A strangely pleasant shudder ran through her at the sound of his voice and the thought of seeing him at this late hour. Lucy steeled herself against any improper reaction and opened the door, keeping most of her body behind it as she peered around to look.

“Good evening, Mr Flynn. I’m sorry, I was... I was about to go to bed.”

“Of course, and I won’t detain you any longer than necessary,” he promised with a strangely serious expression. “My daughter tells me that she invited you to join us for dinner tomorrow for her birthday.”

“She did.” Lucy nodded. “I did try to explain that it just wasn’t done, but Iris can be quite insistent.”

A rare smile came to Mr Flynn’s lips at that, seeming to light up the darkness around them somehow, though Lucy could never explain how.

“She knows what she wants and is not afraid to ask for it.” Mr Flynn nodded. “With that in mind, I have told her she need not attend lessons tomorrow, and that if you agree, she can have her wish and you will join us for dinner.”

“_If_ I agree?” Lucy checked, swallowing hard.

“Though I am sure as your employer I could order you to come to dinner, I hope, Miss Preston, that you would come of your own accord.”

The way he said it, with that undefinable expression he wore so often, Lucy honestly wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or deadly serious. She presumed it was a joke, and yet, she wondered if she said no, if she defied him and made him mad, could he become the tyrant some seemed to believe he could be?

“I would be honoured to come to dinner for Iris’ birthday, Mr Flynn,” she said, nodding once. “Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_, Miss Preston” he told her, echoing her action as well as her sentiment. “Enjoy your day off tomorrow, and we will see you in the main dining room, at seven o’clock. Sleep well, Miss Preston.”

“And you, Mr Flynn,” she replied, watching as he turned sharply on his heel and strode away down the corridor.

Only when he was out of sight, did Lucy close the door and press her back against it, putting all her energy into breathing evenly. She wasn’t afraid of Mr Flynn as such, but he intrigued her and had a habit of putting her on edge. It was often said that women were the enigma, but Lucy felt there were men who could easily be just as hard to figure out. Mr Flynn was definitely one of them.

Maybe she could unravel him at dinner tomorrow, Lucy considered, slipping out of her dressing down and climbing into bed at last. Of course, the way her heart still beat too quickly and her mind raced after barely five minutes alone in his company, Lucy wondered if he were more likely to unravel her, and in ways she hardly dare imagine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really appreciate all the positive comments I'm receiving - thank you. Also, I'm loving what I'm learning about Croatia while writing this :)

When Lucy reached to fasten the last two buttons on her dress, she found her hands were shaking. It was so absurd, she was only going to eat dinner with Iris and Mr Flynn, two perfectly normal people. It really shouldn’t be all that nerve-wracking and yet she felt nauseated just considering it.

Having been given the day off, Lucy knew she must use it wisely. She rode into town in the wagon with two of the other servants who were getting supplies, so that she could look for an appropriate gift for Iris and possibly some embellishments to add to clothes that were hardly appropriate for dinner in the dining room. Lucy had such dresses and jewels once, though when she thought of it, it often felt like someone else’s life she was recalling rather than her own.

Now, with the clock on the wall telling her it was a quarter to seven, Lucy took a deep breath and checked herself over in the mirror. She had spent so long pinning her hair and adding the extra lace and ribbon to her dress, she was amazed she was ready on time. Still, she had to admit, she didn’t look too bad.

“Can’t do any better on short notice,” she muttered to herself, tucking the locket that hung around her neck inside her dress and pinching her cheeks so she wouldn’t look so pale.

A sudden knocking startled her so much, she nearly pitched over and landed in a heap on the floor. It was a miracle that she saved herself and made it over to the door, still upright.

“Jiya.” She sighed with relief when she saw her. “I thought you were... Never mind. Is everything okay?”

“I think everything is perfect,” Jiya replied, smiling widely as she looked at Lucy. “You look great.”

“Oh, thank you.” Lucy nodded once, thinking her embarrassment at the compliment would certainly redden those cheeks she had been worried about. “I hope Mr Flynn will think it’s suitable.”

“I have a feeling he’ll think it’s more than just suitable,” she said, smiling enough to make Lucy wonder exactly what she was implying - she didn’t dare ask. “Anyway, I just came to see if you needed any help, which you clearly do not, and to warn you that I’ll be serving at dinner tonight.”

“Warn me?” Lucy shook her head in confusion. “I think I’ll be glad of the friendly face, but won’t it we strange for you?”

“I’m fine with it,” Jiya assured her. “You’re still Lucy, even in your best dress, sitting at a big table with the boss,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you, Jiya,” she said, feeling both grateful for her words and a little more confident about this whole evening, if she was honest.

Turning back to pick up the gift for Iris, Lucy then came out her room, closing the door behind her. While Jiya returned to the servants’ quarters for now, Lucy went towards the main dining room, her heart beating faster and faster as she made her approach. At the door, she took in a deep breath and steeled herself before raising her hand, but no sooner had she leaned in to knock, the door opened. Lucy very nearly knocked right on Mr Flynn’s chest.

“Miss Preston,” he said, smiling down at her, while she quickly lowered her hand.

“Mr Flynn,” she replied, nodding once. “I, uh, I hope I’m not late.”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “Please, come in.”

He opened the door further and Lucy slipped by him, relieved to find Iris already within and eager to rush to her side. Talking to her young student came easily to Lucy, even if it did feel very strange to be doing so in front of Iris’ father. It was a little embarrassing to present such a meagre gift as a simple hair comb to Iris with Mr Flynn watching, but the child was actually so excited just to have anything at all, Lucy’s embarrassment was soon forgotten.

As the three of them sat down together, Iris continued to dominate the conversation, at least when they weren’t all eating and therefore needed to keep their mouths closed. Lucy concentrated very hard on minding her manners and behaving like a lady. Not that it came so hard to her, it was only that she was very much aware of herself in this kind of company.

More than once, she was sure Mr Flynn was watching her from the end of the table, but Lucy kept her own eyes on her food or on Iris sat across from her, since it seemed that much safer somehow. She only looked at Mr Flynn if he spoke to her directly and that didn’t happen too often.

The time actually seemed to fly once Lucy relaxed a little. When dinner was done, they all retired to the adjoining parlour, Lucy and Iris sharing the chaise, while Mr Flynn took the nearby chair. He seemed happy enough for the ladies to talk while he put his attention on a book, but before long, Iris was yawning more and more often between her words and he clearly noticed.

“I think,” he said, despotising his book on the table and giving Iris his full attention, “it is time for young ladies to retire to bed.”

“Oh, Papa...” she began, but he held up a finger to silence her.

“Never mind, ‘Oh, Papa’,” he said, firm but kind as he pretended to glare at her. “Idi u krevet sada, mališa.”

“Da, Papa.” Iris dutifully nodded, getting up and going over to his chair to hug him. “Volim te,” she intoned, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I ja tebe volim,” he replied.

Though Lucy couldn’t be certain, she would guess from the way the words were spoken between them that they were less ‘goodnight’ and more in the realms of ‘I love you.’

“Goodnight, Lucy,” said Iris then, smiling widely, “and thank you again for my gift.”

“Goodnight, Iris, and you’re more than welcome,” she assured her, smiling back at her. “Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner today, it was wonderful.”

She watched as the little girl took herself off to bed and then turned back to find Mr Flynn watching her, rather than Iris leaving. It was strange how the atmosphere had changed so much in the space of a minute, but Lucy suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe as well as before. It was that intense gaze of his, she knew it was. It made her want to run and at the same time stay forever.

“I suppose I should go too,” she said, clearing her throat when she realised her voice was coming out too softly.

“You don’t have to,” Mr Flynn told her, before she even had a chance to rise from the seat. “I mean, if you want to, of course, you can,” he clarified, “but if you’d like to stay...?” he suggested with a hint of a smile.

“I could stay.” Lucy nodded, though she wondered in the very next second why she agreed to it.

After all, she had no clue what they were going to talk about, other than Iris, and there was only so much to say, especially when there had been no lessons today to refer to. Plus, they had already spent hours in each other’s company with the child present.

Mr Flynn rose from his seat then and Lucy’s eyes followed him as he crossed to the cabinet.

“May I offer you a drink?” he asked, showing her a bottle.

Lucy frowned. “That’s not wine, is it?”

“It is Slivovitz, a type of Rakija,” he explained, apparently finding her confusion a little too amusing. “I’m sorry, forgive me,” he said then. “It is plum brandy, from Croatia.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Lucy realised, getting up and coming over as he poured two healthy measures into glasses, one of which he duly handed to her. “Thank you,” she said, trying to ignore the tingle that travelled up her arm when their fingers touched in the exchange. “Um, how do you say ‘cheers’ in Croatian?”

“We say živjeli,” Mr Flynn advised. “It actually means ‘Let’s live.’”

“Well then, živjeli.” Lucy smiled, holding up her glass.

He did the same and they both drank.

Lucy wasn’t quite sure what she had been expecting. It wasn’t as if she never had a drink in her life. Wine with a meal was common enough and she had actually had brandy before too, though only medicinally. This was something entirely different and she had probably taken too big a sip in trying to match Mr Flynn. The alcohol hit the back of her throat and quite took her breath away.

“Wow, that is... wow,” she gasped, peering into her glass, still half full yet.

“Do you like it?” asked Mr Flynn, that half-smile once again present on his lips.

Lucy was becoming accustomed to it now and to rising up to the challenge it seemed to represent too.

“I do actually,” she said, swallowing down the rest if only to catch up with him and setting her glass down for another measure.

When the glass was full again, Lucy walked about the room and sipped at her second helping of Slivovitz, mindful of the effect too much would doubtless have on her. She had already proven herself not to be the weak-willed type of woman that might swoon at so much as the smell of alcohol or even lose her senses the way a lady never should. The drink did seem to give her an extra boost of confidence though, allowing her to speak ever more freely to Mr Flynn in a way she might otherwise not have been inclined to do.

“You know, I love all the art work you have in this house,” she said thoughtfully, standing now in front of one particular painting that caught her eye. “This looks like another one that I saw downstairs,” she noted. “The colours and the texture... I’m no expert, but the artist must be very talented.”

“They are pictures of views from the windows of our house back home,” Mr Flynn said from somewhere behind her. “Lorena, my late wife, was the artist.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Lucy quickly, turning around and startling at the realisation he was now right there, so close and so very tall that she had to tip her head a long way back to properly see his face.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, staring down at her. “You complimented her paintings, and without knowing they were hers, which means you were obviously being honest.”

Lucy nodded that was true and then swallowed hard before she could speak.

“She was very talented... and very beautiful,” she added, side-stepping out from under Mr Flynn’s gaze. “Iris showed me the picture in her locket. Has she...? Did she pass very long ago?”

“Five years,” said Mr Flynn, staring down into his drink now. “Iris barely remembers her. Sometimes I think it is for the best. Other times...” he trailed off, now looking to the painting on the wall that had held Lucy’s own attention so long. “Anyway, we are better off here, away from that life,” he concluded, unable to keep smiling when he spoke of such things.

Lucy well understood why. “It must have been so hard, having your home constantly threatened,” she said, retaking her seat, “with Austria and Hungary both trying to exert their power over the country.”

She took another sip of her brandy and then dared to look at Mr Flynn to see his reaction to her sudden knowledge on the Kingdom of Croatia. It made her heart soar to realise he was not only surprised but seemingly impressed too.

“You’ve done your homework, Miss Preston.”

“A little,” she admitted with a grin that was hard to suppress. “Iris was understandably eager that we cover European history in her lessons and I’ve been preparing as best I can. You did say that I could make use of the books in the library.”

“Of course, you may,” Mr Flynn agreed, moving to sit back down himself, though this time he chose the spot Iris had occupied before, next to Lucy on the chaise. “Can't have a teacher with gaps in her knowledge.”

She didn’t mean to flinch at his being so close. It wasn’t that it was unpleasant at all, more so that it was the complete opposite. Pressing herself against the arm on her side of the seat still didn’t put much space between them on such a small piece of furniture, but it was all she could do, except take a deep breath and kept talking. Lucy was good at talking, about history and other things she learnt in books anyway.

“Of course, nobody knows everything. I’m still learning a lot myself, but the Kingdom of Croatia is fascinating. I recently started reading a book about the Illyrian movement,” she explained, looking up at the sound of actual laughter, which shocked her so much more than anything else had yet tonight. “Did I say something amusing, Mr Flynn?” she asked, a little amused herself to see him so completely entertained.

“Not at all, Miss Preston,” he assured her, waving away her concerns with his free hand as he placed his empty glass down on the table. “I just don't think I have ever known a woman who lights up quite the way you do when talking about history,” he said, looking at her then with something akin to wonder, maybe even admiration.

Lucy felt her cheeks burn and wished she could do something about it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t and deliberately ducked her head as she put her glass down next to his own. It did nothing to hide her red face, apparently.

“Now I have embarrassed you. I’m sorry,” Mr Flynn apologised.

“No, it’s... No apology necessary, really,” she assured him, hoping her composure came back to her soon. “You’re right, I am very passionate about history,” she admitted, forcing herself to look at him, to not allow him to think she was in any way cast down, not least because he clearly hadn’t meant to cause that. “There’s so much we can learn from the past, about how we got here, all the changes there have been, all the interesting people.”

“You don’t find enough interesting people in the present?” he asked, seeming even closer now than he had been before, though Lucy was fairly certain neither of them had moved significantly. “Do you always prefer the past?”

“No, not always,” she admitted, licking her lips that suddenly seemed dry, “and yes, there are interesting people here too.”

“I agree with you,” he said, so very close that Lucy swore she felt the words more than heard them.

Lucy would like to tell herself it was only the alcohol warming her up from the inside, but it wasn’t true. Mr Flynn’s gaze locked on her own, the closeness they seemed to have found, quite inadvertently, it was all too much. She wanted to speak but her breath caught in her throat. Then Lucy recalled the last time she had found herself in a position such as this. Suddenly she was on her feet.

“I think I should probably be going now,” she said all too quickly. “It’s getting late and your delicious drink is going straight to my head.”

Mr Flynn rose too, reaching for her. “I should walk you to your room-”

“No!” Lucy snatched her arm out of his reach, closed her eyes a moment and regained control. “No, no, I can go by myself, but thank you, Mr Flynn, for the drink and the dinner and... the day off,” she rattled out, smiling a shaky smile as she inched towards the door.

“Thank you, Miss Preston, for Iris’ gift, and for joining us for dinner,” he replied in kind. “I should have mentioned sooner that you look particularly fine in that dress.”

Lucy’s smile came more easily at the sound of his compliment, but she knew she could not allow herself to fall into bad habits. Men could be so sweet sometimes, they might even mean the pretty words they said, but it wasn’t worth it. She knew from experience, it was never worth it.

“Thank you, again,” she said, taking two more steps back towards the door.

Lucy realised too late her foot had caught in the rug and she stumbled terribly, catching herself at the last with her hand on the door knob.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, seeing that Mr Flynn was a second away from coming to her aid. “I’m fine,” she repeated, still smiling until she was finally out of the room with the door closed behind her.

Lucy put her back against the wall and breathed deeply several times before she dare try and make it back to her room. She was muttering to herself as she went.

“I am absolutely _not_ fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Croatian translations:  
Idi u krevet sada, mališa - Go to bed, little one  
Volim te - I love you  
I ja tebe volim - I love you too


	5. Chapter 5

She avoided him for a whole week. It wasn’t actually all that hard to do, especially when he was away for at least three days of that week, but Lucy felt equal parts proud of herself and ashamed at her behaviour. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Mr Flynn hadn’t really done anything wrong on the evening that they spent together, which is why she felt so bad about hiding. At the same time, she had to congratulate herself on keeping out of his way, if only because she was protecting herself from temptation.

In the mornings, after her early breakfast with the staff, Lucy hid herself in the library until it was time to begin lessons with Iris. Any time she had to spare in the afternoon, Lucy would take herself out into the grounds of the manor and walk as far as she dare before coming back and retiring to her room. She wrote anything of relevance into her journal then got ready for dinner and headed down, catching up with Jiya and the others whilst they ate together.

Lucy deliberately lingered in the kitchen, helping with any odd task that she could, until the hour got late and she could go straight to bed. No unnecessary wandering in the hallways of the manor or even being alone in her room for longer than was necessary, aside from at night when she slept. It was better that way, she told herself, and yet it was strange how quickly she missed seeing her mysterious and attractive employer.

The worst part was the dreams, or maybe they were the best part, Lucy wasn’t sure anymore. The first time it happened had been the night of Iris’ birthday and so she at least understood why her mind had quite run away with her in the dark, but when it continued the next night and the one after that, Lucy started to feel as if she were going mad.

“Lucy?” said Iris, her hand landing on her teacher’s own and startling her.

“I’m sorry, what?” she checked, shaking her head.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like you can concentrate.” Iris frowned. “Papa always says I’m not supposed to say anything about how other people look because it’s not polite, but you look very pale, like you’re sick or something.”

“I’m not sick,” Lucy promised her, even as her hand went unconsciously to her forehead. “I... I haven’t been sleeping so well lately, that’s all. I’m fine, I promise. You can carry on now,” she said, gesturing towards Iris’ copy of Shakespeare so she would go on with reading aloud.

Lucy tried to focus but it wasn’t easy. At least what she had said to Iris was the truth, she really hadn’t been sleeping well. Between dreams of Mr Flynn and the disturbances that came once a week like clockwork, it was little wonder she was feeling the strain. Of course, forcing herself to concentrate on Iris reading aloud didn’t really help at all.

“‘Most dangerous is that temptation that doth goad us on to sin in loving virtue.’”

“Okay,” said Lucy suddenly. “Actually, maybe that’s enough for today. I’m not sure Mr Shakespeare is helping with my tiredness,” she told Iris with what she hoped looked like a good-natured smile. “He can be a little long-winded sometimes, can’t he?”

“_Measure for Measure_ isn’t my favourite play,” Iris confessed. “I love _Romeo and Juliet_,” she said with a sigh.

“Really? You like it all that much?”

“It’s so romantic. I mean, I know a lot of people die, even Romeo and Juliet do in the end, but they would do anything for the love they felt, even sacrifice themselves. Can you imagine feeling that way?”

Lucy opened her mouth to answer and then changed her mind, pushing her lips firmly together and shaking her head in the negative.

“I think we should move onto mathematics now,” she said after a moment’s pause, switching the books and papers on the table.

From that point on, it was a little easier for Lucy to make herself concentrate, but only for so long. The moment she looked away from Iris and her eye caught on a painting on the wall that was clearly one of Mrs Flynn’s pieces, her mind went back to the evening one week before. The last thing Lucy needed in her life was another man with a wife hanging around, even if it was just her memory and old possessions in the house this time. Besides, what kind of woman would she be if she allowed herself to become entangled with her employer? _Entangled_. Very different pictures flashed through Lucy’s mind then, picked out from dreams she would sooner forget in many ways, and yet, she knew she never could.

* * *

It was inevitable that they were going to meet again eventually. Lucy wasn’t sure whether she should be happy to realise it was quite by accident rather than design, or disappointed that he hadn’t made more of an effort to seek her out. Of course, the fact he appeared to be coming from the direction of her room made her wonder if that was just exactly what he had been doing after all.

“Mr Flynn, hello,” she said, finding him a smile. “How are you? Um, I hope your latest business trip was successful?”

“It was... as expected, and I am quite well, thank you,” he told her, almost looking as awkward as Lucy felt, which helped, if only a little. “You actually look a little pale yourself.”

Lucy sighed. “That’s a popular opinion. Iris told me the same thing today, and yet, I’ve been walking in the grounds more and more, I’m surprised I’m not quite tanned by now,” she said, inspecting her own hands for evidence and somehow not finding any.

“Perhaps all the walking...” said Mr Flynn, making a random gesture with one hand. “I hope you’re not over-exerting yourself,” he landed on eventually.

“I know what I can and cannot do, thank you, Mr Flynn,” said Lucy, unsure why his comment made her feel so defensive, but it did. “I don’t need a father or a caretaker.”

“Of course not. Miss Preston, the last thing I would try to be...” he began, looking pained as he tried to find the right words. “That is, I’m only concerned for Iris’ education, if you were to fall ill.”

It hurt to think that was the only reason he cared, though Lucy knew they were both better off if that was all it were. She didn’t entirely believe it though.

“Of course,” she said eventually. “Well, trust me, Mr Flynn, I’m perfectly healthy. Now, if that was all?” she said, stepping forward to move past him.

“It wasn’t.”

They both looked down at his hand gripping her elbow and then at the same moment glanced up so their eyes met. Lucy forced herself to breathe evenly and waited for Mr Flynn to release her.

He didn’t.

“Miss Preston, I... I feel that I owe you an apology,” he told her instead.

“It’s fine, I understand, your daughter’s education is important to you, as it should be.”

“I don’t mean an apology for this conversation,” he told her, frustration creeping into his tone, “though I am sorry for how it has progressed,” he noted, finally letting go of her arm and pushing his hand back through his hair that she had noticed was becoming unruly of late. “I am trying to apologise for Iris’ birthday, or rather, what happened after she had gone to bed that night. I feel as if you have been avoiding me since then,” he said, looking down at Lucy with such regret in his eyes, she could hardly bear it. “If I behaved in a way that offended you-”

“You didn’t,” she said too fast, wincing when she realised she had interrupted so rudely. “I mean, I wasn’t... Mr Flynn, you... you’re not...”

For one who was usually so articulate, Lucy struggled terribly to find the words when it came to Mr Flynn. He was the one person who could shock her to silence with barely a look and bring her to incoherency with the power of his gaze alone. It was as thrilling as it was frightening and she only wished she could begin to explain it. Unfortunately, he misinterpreted the silence she gave him instead.

“Perhaps those rumours you heard before coming here suddenly seem more credible than you thought?” he said, looking away.

“No,” Lucy told him firmly, certain at least that she did not want him to believe such a thing. “I don’t think you’re a monster or a tyrant,” she promised, getting his attention back in an instant. “I actually think you’re a very decent man who is just trying to do what’s best for his daughter and his staff and... and you really didn’t offend me, not that night, not at any time, actually.”

“So, you haven’t been avoiding me?” Mr Flynn checked, expression caught between hope and relief, though he seemed reluctant to allow himself either until she answered him.

“I... Maybe I have,” Lucy admitted, eyes going to the floor.

She should just lie and tell him no, that of course she wasn’t avoiding him, that she had no reason to. Somehow, she just couldn’t do it. Living in a web of lies was her past, she didn’t want it to be her future, no matter what it caused.

“Am I supposed to ask why?” asked Mr Flynn, seemingly closer than he had been before when Lucy looked up again.

“You’re not supposed to,” she said softly, “but you can, if you want to. I just...”

The sound of approaching footsteps and a startled gasp kept her from saying more. Lucy looked past Mr Flynn and he turned at the same time to see Jiya approaching. To her credit, she looked mortified to have interrupted something, apologising fast for her intrusion. Lucy didn’t wait around to find out what she wanted or anything else. Cowardly as it may be, she bolted to her room before Mr Flynn even had a chance to turn back and notice she was gone.

It was so foolish. There was nothing to stop Mr Flynn coming to knock on her door, insisting that he speak with her. Lucy knew if he did, she would not deny him, even if he would allow her the chance. The ache in her chest came from knowing she was probably hurting him as much as herself, and yet, she had no idea what she was supposed to do in this situation.

Slamming her hand against the wall in frustration, Lucy struggled to keep her feelings in check. Pacing the floor, she told herself she would do better just to pack up and leave Tempus Manor before anything else happened. It was probably the best thing for everyone, and yet, she had no idea where she would go.

Going back wasn’t an option, not anymore. Besides, leaving didn’t just mean turning her back on Mr Flynn, but Iris too, plus Jiya and the other staff who had been so kind to her. Lucy had made a kind of home here, one she actually liked. To leave it and start all over again somewhere else, she wasn’t sure she could bear it.

Deciding rest was what she really needed, Lucy got herself ready for bed. In the morning, with a clear head, she was bound to have a better perspective on what to do. Of course, that whole plan hinged on her even getting a good night’s sleep. Somehow, in the circumstances, Lucy just didn’t see that happening.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tension has built to such a degree... I hope I did some justice to it in this chapter but I don't know. Would love your opinions/comments because I'm not sure this chapter works as well as I'd like it to.

Lucy wished she could come up with an answer to her problems, but this time, it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen. She needed good counsel, someone she could trust, and the one person in the house she felt she could talk to (besides Iris, who would be completely inappropriate in this circumstance) was Jiya. They had come to trust each other over the past few weeks, to share opinions and such that they probably wouldn’t tell anyone else. Lucy had only wondered once if Jiya might be hiding something from her and even then, she doubted it was anything of consequence.

“Doesn’t really matter,” Lucy considered, flipping her journal closed and pushing it back into the drawer of the nightstand. “There is nobody else and I’m pretty sure I can trust her with this. Besides, if I keep talking to myself, I really am going to lose my mind,” she muttered, heading for the door.

At least she didn’t have to look out for Mr Flynn as she walked the halls, wondering if he would suddenly appear and want to talk to her again. He was on another of his mysterious trips, though he was due back again in two days, which probably meant tomorrow given how things usually worked. It was why Lucy needed to talked to Jiya now, before she lost her chance.

It was late enough that Lucy didn’t even try the kitchen but went straight to Jiya’s own room. Knocking lightly on the door, she stepped back and waited, a little confused when she was sure she heard more than one voice in amongst the scrabbling sounds of a person coming to see who was knocking. Lucy’s eyes widened as she realised she must be interrupting something. Turning to go, she stopped short when Jiya suddenly spoke her name.

“Lucy. Um, is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine,” Lucy told her, looking back with a smile. “I’m so sorry if I... um, I’m sorry,” she repeated, backing away.

“No, please!” Jiya called to her. “It’s not what you think... or it might be but...” she stopped and shook her head, looking up and down hall way before gesturing for Lucy to come back. “Please, I want you to know.”

Lucy hesitated a moment then nodded her head and walked forward. As she stepped into Jiya’s room, she wondered at it being empty save for the two of them. She really had thought that Jiya had someone in there with her, that the big secret was that she was seeing someone else amongst the staff, but maybe not.

Jiya closed the door and stepped up next to Lucy.

“You remember when you mentioned to me about noises waking you in the night?” she said awkwardly, fingers twisting together in front of her.

“Once each week, almost like clockwork.” Lucy nodded.

“Well, I know what that is,” said Jiya, taking a deep breath. “Actually, more accurately, I know who it is,” she explained, walking over to the wall and pressing on a seemingly innocuous piece of stonework in the mantle.

Lucy watched in wonder as the middle section of the fireplace shifted away, revealing a secret hiding place. A man stepped out from there, startling her a little.

“Lucy Preston, this is Rufus Carlin,” Jiya introduced them.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Rufus, smiling a little, though he looked fairly nervous too.

“That’s strange. I haven’t heard a thing about you,” Lucy confessed, smiling in any case, “but it’s very nice to meet you. I’m guessing you two are...” she said, gesturing vaguely between Rufus and Jiya.

“I love him,” her friend explained, “and he loves me. If it were possible, we’d be married by now, but it’s not so simple.”

“Why not?” Lucy shook her head. “I mean, I know some misguided people would question how appropriate it is for people of different races to be together, but surely you don’t really care about that.”

“We don’t,” Rufus assured her, “but it’s not just about the colour of my skin, or Jiya’s either. I’m not free,” he explained, looking pained. “Every time I come here, I don’t just risk my job or my reputation, I risk my life, just to see Jiya for an hour, but I happen to think she’s worth it,” he said, looking to his beloved with such devotion in his eyes, Lucy wanted to cry.

She watched them clasp hands and had no words to give them at all. To think that she thought her own life could be so hard. It had been, in its way, but this was just tragic. Two people so in love, that much she could see it from a mile away, and yet there was no way for them to get a happily ever after, not a chance.

“We’ll find a way,” Jiya said, meeting Rufus’ gaze. “You know we will, somehow.”

“You can’t ever give up hope,” said Lucy, finally finding her voice, though she had to swallow hard to continue. “Believe that you can make it and I’m sure you will. If I can ever be of any help... I mean, I don’t suppose I could be, but if I could...”

“We appreciate the thought,” Rufus said, finding her a smile. “But like you said, there’s not much anyone can do right now.”

Lucy nodded and looked towards the door. “I should go, let you have your time together while you have the chance.”

She had her hand on the door knob when Jiya spoke again. “Did you need something?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lucy assured her. “We’ll talk about it some other time,” she assured her friend, leaving quickly.

On the way back to her own room, Lucy was at least heartened to know that Jiya trusted her enough to share such a thing with her as Rufus’ existence. It proved that if and when Lucy did get the chance to tell Jiya her own secrets, she could be trusted to keep them. For now, however, Lucy would have to keep her feelings to herself.

* * *

“You’re doing very well, Iris,” Lucy told her student with a smile. “If you go on this way, you’ll learn so much, you’ll overtake even me!”

“I don’t think that could ever happen.” Iris giggled. “You’re so smart, Lucy. I don’t think anybody knows as much as you do.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” said Lucy, smiling at the compliment nonetheless as she tidied the books and papers on the table. “There’s plenty of things I can’t do. I can’t speak Croatian for one thing.”

“Maybe I could teach you,” said Iris with no lack of excitement in her voice.

“Well, maybe,” Lucy considered, unsure how to refuse such a sweet offer. “Didn’t you also tell me you can play the piano? That’s a skill I don’t have either.”

“I’m still learning and Papa says there’s a long way to go.” Iris sighed. “Would you like to hear the new piece I’ve been practising? I’d love to play for you.”

Lucy meant to say no. She was so conscious of the fact that Mr Flynn could arrive home at any time and he always sought out Iris before anyone else. Lucy would be better off in her own room, out of the way, though there was a voice in her head reminding her to be stronger than that, to face what she was afraid of. After all, Jiya and Rufus did it all the time.

“I would love to hear you play, Iris,” she said at last, putting the last book on the pile with a resounding thud. “Lead the way.”

Iris was grinning wide as she leapt up from her seat, grabbed Lucy’s hand and hurried her down the hallway to the parlour. From the door, she flew straight to the piano and Lucy wandered over to the chaise, sitting down to listen. She realised too late this was the same room they had sat in after dinner on Iris’ birthday and that now she was in almost the exact same spot as when she had started to suspect Mr Flynn might actually kiss her.

“Papa has been teaching me for a while now,” said Iris, pulling Lucy from her thoughts. “He’s very good, much better than me, but he says I’m a quick study.”

“I’m sure he’s right.” Lucy smiled, trying to keep focus on the little girl as she began to play.

Iris was good enough that Lucy recognised the tune as one of Chopin’s nocturnes. She played it beautifully, if not slowly, with only two or three minor slips that anyone might notice. Lucy found herself quite caught up in the sweet melody, watching Iris in concentration as she fought to keep tempo and play all the right notes too. For ten years old, Lucy thought she was quite remarkable, and not just in her piano playing either.

As Iris came to the end of the piece, Lucy lifted her hands from her lap to applaud, only to find the resulting sound much louder than she expected. Her eyes shot to the open door and Iris turned quickly on the piano stool, almost overturning it when she saw who was there, also clapping in appreciation of her playing.

“Papa!” she yelled happily, rushing to hug him as he in turn crouched down to her level and happily received her into his arms.

Lucy was on her feet in a moment, meaning to leave father and daughter alone. Of course, with their reunion happening directly in the doorway, she had no way to escape. It would almost be a shame to go in any case. They did make such a beautiful picture in that moment and Lucy found herself both smiling and trying to blink back tears as Iris and her father greeted each other in whispered words that no doubt she would not understand even if she could hear them clearly.

The smile slipped a little when she realised Mr Flynn was no longer giving all his attention to his daughter, instead looking over her shoulder at Lucy herself.

“Welcome home, Mr Flynn,” she told him, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be in here, but Iris-”

“I wanted to play for her, Papa,” the little girl explained, pulling out of her father’s arms. “I was telling Lucy how you’re teaching me, but also how you’re much better than I am. Won’t you play something for us, Papa?”

Mr Flynn watched his daughter as she spoke animatedly about the piano, then his eyes shifted back to Lucy and she couldn’t hold his gaze.

“I’m sure Mr Flynn doesn’t want to play for me, Iris. He has better things to do,” she said quickly.

“What better things are there to do in life than entertain beautiful ladies?” asked Mr Flynn, looking at Iris more than Lucy now, she noted, as she dared another glance.

Iris giggled at what she saw as a compliment to herself over anyone, Lucy suspected, however, the smirk on Mr Flynn’s lips suggested otherwise.

“Still, I think we should leave the playing to you, mališa,” he told his daughter then, encouraging Iris to go back to the piano stool, as he rose to his full height and fixed his eyes on Lucy. “Perhaps, if you will play a waltz, Miss Preston will do the honour of dancing with me?”

Lucy felt her mouth drop open of its own accord and forced herself to close it again. Still, her mind was racing much more quickly than she could cope with, a hundred things in her head that she meant to say with none of them making their way past her lips. Mr Flynn advancing on her across the room and the look in his eyes as he came to her was enough to set her heart racing. The idea that he was about to take her in his arms was entirely too much.

“I... I’m not much of a dancer,” she forced out and then could only manage it by lowering her eyes to the rug beneath her feet.

“I’m sure you noticed,” he said in a soft tone, “Iris does not really play to tempo yet. You’ll hardly have to move at all to keep up.”

Lucy glanced up at him, having to tilt her head back further to see his face now he was so close. She wished he wouldn’t do this to her, though she often wondered if he really had any idea quite the effect he could have. He had to know, surely, and yet it wasn’t as if she ever told him, ever made it entirely plain. Women were not exactly supposed to make those kinds of overtures to men, it really wasn’t done, but Lucy had never been the kind to play by the rules if they didn’t suit her. Of course, she never found herself falling in love with her employer before.

“Are you ready?” asked Iris, turning on her stool to look at them.

“Almost,” Mr Flynn told her, though his eyes never left Lucy’s own gaze. “Miss Preston?” he said, right hand picking up her left.

When the other slid around her waist she had to remind herself to breathe and then, finally, Mr Flynn looked away, just long enough to nod to Iris that she should begin playing. Lucy heard the music and tried her best to focus on moving her feet. One-two-three, she could manage that, and as Mr Flynn had said, it wasn’t exactly a fast pace. She felt so foolish at first and so completely overwhelmed by the whole experience, but then when she dared to look up again, she saw Mr Flynn wearing a rare smile and found herself returning the look.

“I thought you were not a great dancer?” he said as they made a successful turn in the small space.

“I’m not, usually,” she admitted, tripping in the very next moment and proving her point. “I’m much better with books.”

“I think you’re doing very well,” he promised her as they continued to dance.

Lucy wasn’t sure how they had both failed to notice the music ending until Iris suddenly spoke.

“You look wonderful together,” she told them happily, facing them rather than her piano now.

Even Mr Flynn looked shocked to note what had happened and all without them paying any mind. He opened his mouth to say something to Iris but she was already in motion.

“I don’t want to play anymore, but I have a music box that plays a waltz,” she explained, heading for the door. “I’ll go and find it and then you can dance some more.”

Lucy watched her go and then, once again, became very aware of the position she and Mr Flynn were in. His smile was gone now, the intense look back in his eyes that was as welcome as it was frightening to Lucy, because she was almost sure she knew exactly what it meant.

“I... I think you can let go now,” she said, trying to pull back just a little.

His firm but gentle grip held her in place. “If that’s what you want,” he said, licking his lips as he seemed to watch her expression for some response that Lucy didn’t know how to give. “Is it what you want?”

“I don’t... I mean, my God, do you have any idea what this is doing to me?” she asked him desperately. “I know you’re not a stupid man, Mr Flynn, you have to know...”

The hand that had held her own released its hold, moving up to cradle her cheek. Her eyes fell shut as the hand at her waist pulled her ever closer.

“Lucy...”

The sound of his voice speaking her given name made something give way inside her. When she opened her eyes, he was so incredibly close and she couldn’t bear it anymore. This situation was running away with her and Lucy was determined to take control of it, no matter the consequences. Reaching up to take his face in her hands, she pushed herself up onto her toes and brought their mouths together in a kiss she had waited too long to experience.

Unfortunately, before the moment had hardly begun it was over. Iris called to them from the hallway about her music box that could not be found.

Lucy pulled back from Mr Flynn just in the same moment that his daughter walked in the door.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where it could be,” Iris was saying.

Lucy forced a smile. “That’s okay. I think I’m all danced out for today,” she confessed, eyes darting back to Mr Flynn just for a moment before she rushed by him to the door. “I should go and see if Jiya and the others need any help with anything.”

Rushing around the corner, Lucy stopped when she got there, unsure if her legs would hold her if she went any further. Her shaking hand went to her lips as her mind replayed what had just happened, what she had done. She had kissed Mr Flynn, and he had most definitely kissed her back.

Despite the shock and the way her heart was pounding, despite not really knowing what any of this really meant, Lucy couldn’t keep the smile from her lips. So much for thoughts of leaving. Right now, she wanted to stay forever.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy awoke from restless sleep, her head still foggy with images from dreams, mixing with the truth of last night. Her hand went absently to her lips as she recalled the evening’s events with complete clarity then, when she had kissed Mr Flynn and he had kissed her back.

Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do, but in that moment, she just couldn’t help herself. The feelings she had been trying to ignore for too long seemed to increase ten-fold when she was in his arms, and then he was looking down at her with that smouldering stare and she just couldn’t bear it anymore.

Of course, there was nothing to say he cared for her as she cared for him, though Lucy never wanted to believe that Mr Flynn could be so wicked as to simply take advantage of her for his own ends. That wasn’t the kind of man he was at all, at least, she didn’t think so.

Heaving a sigh, she threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed. Her hair fell about her shoulders as she looked to the window, realising it was probably far too early to get up. Still, she was sure she was getting no rest tonight, so there was little point in trying.

Before her feet had even quite touched the floor, her eyes fell on a piece of paper by the door. Frowning, Lucy got up and moved to retrieve the letter that bore her name, wondering if perhaps Jiya had left her a note, worrying over the secret she had shared two nights ago. She gasped as she unfolded the paper and realised her mistake. Immediately she saw the opening lines, she knew exactly who the writer was - the very man that had been on her mind all night long.

Tripping back until her legs hit the bed, Lucy shifted back under the covers, shivering from more than cold as she began to read.

_My dear Lucy,_

_It is late and I am sure you are sleeping as I write this. I had thought to sleep myself, but know I cannot find rest until I tell you all that is on my mind. Since it would be more than inappropriate for us to meet and talk at such an hour, this letter will have to suffice._

_Though I have much to say, I confess I hardly know where to begin in expressing what I feel. I cannot understand how any of this has happened. Certainly, I was not looking for it when I hired a school teacher for my daughter._

_Please understand that I had no intention of employing someone for any reason but the education of my little girl. I would like to believe you know me well enough to know I am not that kind of man. I am accused of much by those that do not know me or that merely think that they do. It is different with us, Lucy, at least, I hope so._

_Is it so foolish for me to think as I am? I thought I was going mad when I first realised all that I could feel for you. As I said, you were only ever supposed to be a teacher for Iris, and perhaps a confidante for her too. She barely knew her mother, and though I could never wish for anyone to try to replace my darling Lorena, for her or for myself, I know she needs a woman in her life. Someone to turn to at certain times when a father is of no use._

_Lucy, I did not know that I needed someone just as much as Iris does. I had no idea what I was missing until I met you. Of course, I expected you to be intelligent, as a teacher you would need to be so, but you are so much more. You intrigued and overwhelmed me from the very first day. I could never have imagined you could be so beautiful, so kind, so engaging, so strong, so alluring._

_I apologise if my thoughts and pen run away with me, but you see now what you cause within me? Such feelings that you evoke, I am losing my grip on them as each day passes. When I am away, I think of you often. When I am in the house, I constantly wish to seek you out, though I know I have no real, professional reason to do so._

_Of course, I told myself to be stronger. It had never once occurred to me that you could feel for me as I did for you. When you seemed to run away from me the night of Iris’ birthday and avoided me for days after, I was so convinced I had embarrassed you, made you uneasy in my company, but you assured me that was untrue._

_I would like you to know that my actions this evening are not something I am terribly proud of. After making a vow to myself that I would not press you in any way, I saw an opportunity I could not bear to miss. The chance to dance with you, to hold you in my arms as I have so often dreamt of. I would ask you to forgive me for my behaviour, Lucy, but I think perhaps, after the way you reacted, I can assume I am not alone in what I feel?_

_You asked me if I understood what our situation was doing to you. In truth, I did not. I only hoped that you would return this affection, this passionate regard that I have for you. Can it truly be so wrong when it feels so perfectly right?_

_I am sure as I close this letter, I shall soon think of a hundred things that I should have included, or a better way to say all that has already been said. My only action now can be to deliver my message to your door, before I change my mind and start over._

_All that you read here is the truth, Lucy. An honest account of my feelings and actions. I only hope that I am not mistaken in believing you feel the same._

_With my deepest regards and affection,_

_Garcia Flynn._

Lucy was smiling, even as tears slid from her eyes, fingers tracing the flow of his handwriting as it spelled out his name at the bottom of the letter.

“Garcia,” she said softly to herself.

Immediately, she was in love with the name. Lucy knew it was entirely possible she was in love with the man too, though it seemed ridiculous after knowing him so little time. Of course, there were a lot of truly ridiculous things that were still true. Improbable but not impossible.

With a sigh, Lucy turned the paper over in her hands and began to read the letter all over again, even as her vision blurred with further tears that she had to wipe away before long. He cared for her, she was sure of it now. All these feelings he spoke of that had tormented him so long, they seemed to mirror her own in every way. Much like her, he had tried to fight them and eventually realised it was impossible to do so. At least they were both in the same position, and yet Lucy wondered if that really made a difference.

She had been in love before, at least she was fairly certain it was love. He was supposed to feel the same, told her as much, enticed her to do something she never ought to have dared outside of marriage. Wyatt was supposed to be her escape and she his. If his wife had never come back...

Lucy closed her eyes and shook her head. To live in what ifs was pointless. She would not make that mistake again. If she and Mr Flynn were to be more to each other than they currently were, she was going to be sure of all the facts, sure of her feelings and of his own. There was no way she was making the same mistake twice.

The smile returned to her lips as her eyes skimmed down the letter one more time.

_I had no idea what I was missing until I met you... I could never have imagined you could be so beautiful, so kind, so engaging, so strong, so alluring... Such feelings that you evoke, I am losing my grip on them as each day passes... The chance to dance with you, to hold you in my arms as I have so often dreamt of... Can it truly be so wrong when it feels so perfectly right?_

So much of what he said resonated with her so deeply. She had dreamt of him too, imagined what it would be like to get closer. She wondered at how she could come to feel so much for him so quickly and felt she was losing her mind in her struggles to control how strong her regard for him had become. It was as if he had pulled pages from her own journal, words from her own mind, the passion of her own heart and made it his own.

_With my deepest regards and affection, Garcia Flynn._

Lucy reached the bottom of the page for the third time, just as the first ray of sunlight appeared through her window. Dawn was breaking, the staff would be stirring. Within the hour, she must also rise, and Iris and Mr Flynn would soon follow. Time was running out.

Turning to the nightstand, Lucy pulled open the drawer and grabbed at her journal. Flipping to the pages she had filled last night, her eyes now ran over her own handwriting, her own assessment of the events that had unfolded in the parlour between herself and Garcia, and her feelings regarding the very same.

There was no way she could ever find to express herself better than what she had written there and since she had no time to try, Lucy did the only thing she could think to do. Ripping the pages free from the binding of the battered leather journal, she folded them together and raced to the desk for her pen. Her hand was shaking as she dipped the nib into the ink and wrote for the first time, but doubtless not the last, ‘Dearest Garcia’ on the blank space under her hand.

Still holding her breath, Lucy threw on her robe and hurried to the door, opening it up just an inch and peering out. There was no movement yet, not a sound to be heard. The rest of the staff would be awake, she was sure, but just barely. It was unlikely she would encounter anyone between her room and Garcia’s own.

Lucy was startled by how quickly and easily her mind had switched to calling him by his given name and she knew she must take care not to address him as such where anyone might hear. All this was racing through her head as she hurried up the stairs towards his bed chamber.

With one last glance to ensure no-one was there to see, she raised the pages to her lips, planted a kiss on the paper and pushed them under the door. She paused just a moment, long enough to hear movement beyond the door that once again startled her into action. Lucy all but ran back to the sanctuary of her own room, slamming the door shut behind her and bracing herself behind it, breathing heavily. In the next moment, she began to laugh. A woman of thirty, running around a darkened house, delivering notes like a silly school girl in love. It was as exhilarating as it was ridiculous, Lucy realised, as she returned to her bed and threw herself face down into the pillows and covers.

In that very moment, Garcia Flynn was reading her words, an entry from her own journal that spoke of her feelings for him, her longing that only grew stronger after their dance and one brief kiss. It did not say everything she would want him to know, but for now, it was all she had to give. Perhaps later, somehow, they would be given the chance to talk alone. Lucy hoped so, because if she must continue to see him, unable to speak of what she felt or act on her feelings after all this, she might just lose her mind altogether. Of course, at least now she knew she wouldn’t have to go insane all by herself. One wonderful man was with her in these feelings, in this deep wanting that was enough to overtake a person’s senses. 

“Garcia Flynn,” she said to herself with a sigh, turning over to stare at the ceiling.

Lucy realised all too easily that he was above her right now, in his room, reading her words. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest at the very thought.

To think she had been considering running away from this house, this man and all the feelings she had for him. Now she only wanted to run headlong into it all, consequences be damned.


	8. Chapter 8

“Lucy!”

She almost jumped out of her skin as she passed by a linen closet and Jiya called her name so suddenly. With her hand on her chest, she turned back to look wide-eyed at her friend and another maid who were clearly stacking clean laundry onto a shelf.

“Did you need something, Jiya?”

“Yes, I did,” she said, eyes flitting between Lucy and the task at hand, before dumping off all the linen from her hands onto the other maid. “I, uh, I need you to come with me, to the wine cellar, if you have time.”

“I’m not busy.” Lucy shook her head. “But why would you need me to-”

“There are bottles with labels that I can’t read,” said Jiya too quickly. “The old-fashioned penmanship and the foreign languages. I’m sure you’ll be better at it than I am, and we haven’t done an inventory in a long time.”

The next thing Lucy knew, Jiya had grabbed her by the arm and was practically dragging her down the hallway, calling to the other maid to finish up and then get back to her usual duties.

Jiya pulled open a door and Lucy found herself being pulled down stone steps in the pitch dark, wondering how she ever made it to the bottom without falling.

“Jiya, what on earth is going on?” she asked the moment they made it down into the cellar and her friend immediately lit a lamp. “Is this... Is it about Rufus?” she asked in a whisper, glancing back the way they had come.

Surely there was no-one to hear them down in the basement, doubtless that was why they were down there in the first place, but Lucy was still wary, given the circumstances.

“No, it’s not about him,” said Jiya, shaking her head. “Although, I am glad I told you. It is such a relief to have someone to share with.”

“Nobody else knows? No-one at all?” Lucy checked, frowning a little as she joined Jiya in sitting down on the wooden crates by the wall, out of sight and out of mind of the rest of the house.

“Not anybody here,” Jiya confirmed. “Rufus has one guy he trusts down at the plantation, but that’s all.”

“But all the people who work here, you’ve known them so much longer than you’ve known me...”

“I told you when we first met, I have good instincts about people. It’s like a gift, I just know things, like the fact I can trust you. It’s not that I don’t trust anybody else here, it’s just... well, this is a big secret to put on somebody.”

“That’s true.” Lucy sighed. “It’s a huge risk you’re taking, both of you, but I do understand it.”

“Of course, you do,” said Jiya, smiling too much, Lucy noted. “Oh, come on! From the start I knew there was something with the two of you and now I know for sure. Well, not absolutely for sure, but I’m pretty certain.”

“Pretty certain about what?” asked Lucy, feigning innocence though she knew as well as Jiya did she couldn’t keep it up for long, the smile pulling at her lips would not be denied and the blush rising in her cheeks must have been visible even in the half-light.

“I never saw him smile so much as he was this morning when I was serving breakfast,” Jiya admitted, grinning yet. “He didn’t actually say what was making him so happy, but then he asked me about dinner arrangements, if dinner would stretch to three on Sunday, if we had any of the really good wine left. Since we never have guests here and none of the rest of the staff ever got in the dining room when they weren’t serving...” she trailed off, looking at Lucy in such a way as to make her blush all the harder.

“For a horrible moment I thought somebody saw us last night,” she said with a sigh. “So, you didn’t?”

“I saw nothing.” Jiya shook her head. “So, what did I not see?”

Lucy bit her lip, her eyes going to the ground. “We were waltzing. Iris so wanted to play the piano for me and then he was just... there. He asked me to dance, so we danced, and then when Iris left the room... I must have completely lost my mind. I kissed him,” she admitted then, unsure what to expect by way of reaction from Jiya.

If anything, she looked overjoyed, even more so than when they began this conversation.

“So, you love him?” she asked in an excited whisper.

“I... I don’t know,” Lucy confessed. “Maybe? It’s so hard to tell and... and I’ve been wrong before. There was a man in my life once and that ended so badly.”

“Oh, Mr Flynn would never hurt you,” Jiya assured her. “He’s not that way at all. I know he seems a little cold or odd when you first meet him...”

“But he’s not really like that,” Lucy finished for her. “I know. Seeing him with Iris shows me how loving and kind he can be. He’s intelligent too, and he can make me laugh, and we’ve had some great conversations. Then, he just... he has this way of looking at me... I wish I could explain what it does to me.”

“Oh, I know,” said Jiya with a dreamy sigh, catching Lucy’s attention again in a moment. “Oh, no, not from Mr Flynn, from Rufus. When he looks at me sometimes, I just... it’s an amazing feeling.”

“It really is.” Lucy smiled back at her. “I don’t know if it’s going to work out, or how it can, but so far, so good,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “And he wants me to come to dinner on Sunday?”

“I think so.” Jiya nodded. “He didn’t actually say it yet, but I think he’s making a plan.”

Lucy couldn’t keep the smile off her face for a moment, until her eyes fell to her lap and the dress she wore.

“I’m going to look awful,” she noted, pulling at the worn fabric of her clothes. “I managed to make one dress look almost suitable for Iris’ birthday dinner, but I don’t have anymore. When are you going into town? I should probably see if I can get some more lace or ribbon or maybe even a whole dress if I can afford it.”

“Lucy, breathe,” Jiya urged her, grabbing her hands that were flapping around madly. “Please, stay calm. Mr Flynn cares about you, the person you are, not what clothes you wear. You weren’t all dressed up last night, were you?”

“No,” Lucy admitted. “I guess you’re right,” she said, expelling a long breath. “This is all just so overwhelming. It’s really not what I expected when I came here. I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay for a while, and now, suddenly, I have a man I could... I have a man in my life that I really care about,” she settled on eventually. “I have a student that is much a friend as anything else, and I have a new best friend and confidante,” she said, turning her hands over to squeeze Jiya’s own. “Thank you, Jiya. Having you to talk to, it helps so much.”

“I’m glad to have you too, Lucy,” she assured her with a smile. “One way or another, we’re both going to get our happily ever after with the men we love. I’m sure of it.”

“I really hope you’re right.”

* * *

“Je suis, tu es, il ou elle est, nous sommes, vous êtes, ils ou elles sont.”

“That’s very good, Iris,” Lucy told her with a smile. “You really do have a gift for languages.”

“Thank you, Lucy.” The little girl smiled back at her. “I like French, even though learning all the verbs is a little tiring. It’s a very pretty language.”

“It is, but actually, I enjoy hearing you and your father speak Croatian. It’s so different to anything else I’ve heard before.”

“Oh, I said I could teach you, didn’t I?” Iris recalled, grinning wide. “Would you like me to?”

“I... I’m not sure.” Lucy shook her head. “I think your father would rather I spent my time teaching you, not learning from you. After all, it is what I’m paid for.”

“Well, so long as I learnt my lessons first, I’m sure Papa wouldn’t mind if I gave you a lesson after that, if you want to.”

Lucy considered the offer and then opened her mouth to refuse it before realising that actually it might be nice to know at least a few useful words and phrases in Garcia’s own language. She felt her cheeks heating up just thinking of him by his first name, especially in front of Iris. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat and finally spoke.

“I suppose if you really were prepared to teach me, it wouldn’t hurt for me to learn something new. Where do we start, Professor Flynn?” she asked with a teasing smile.

Iris looked overjoyed, pulling the tablet of paper closer to her and writing out words that she doubtless intended to teach to her ‘student.’ Lucy watched with interest as Iris’ handwriting covered the page, though her mind soon began to wander again.

She supposed she might learn basic conversational skills from a ten-year-old, how to pass pleasantries and maybe introduce herself. Lucy knew she would never learn the kind of things she might want to say to Garcia that others should not hear, though they might be the most useful phrases. Perhaps there was a book in the library she could refer to, because she doubted such a thing as ‘Basic Croatian’ could be bought at the book store in town.

“Now, I know it looks strange compared to English, but it’s actually not that hard when you know how to pronounce all the letters...”

Lucy listened intently as Iris showed her different words and told her how they were pronounced. She repeated them back, finding it a little odd to be taught by a ten-year-old, and yet enjoying the experience if she were honest. Iris tried to replicate the lessons Lucy gave her in French, but with Croatian instead, and it worked surprisingly well.

After a couple of hours of working at it, Lucy was at least glad to know she could say ‘Good morning’ or ‘Good afternoon’ in Garcia’s mother tongue if and when she next ran across him in the hall and that was a nice feeling. Of course, she could also count to ten for him and say please and thank you, but there was a limit to how much use just those few words would be at present.

“Thank you, Iris. I mean, hvala vam,” said Lucy, smiling at her. “You know you’re a very good teacher.”

“Not as good as you,” said Iris, looking away, “but it is fun to teach instead of learn for a change. Oh, I like to learn from you,” she said quickly, clearly realising how her words might be taken negatively. “You make everything so interesting and fun, especially history.”

“Well, history is fun,” Lucy told her easily. “All learning should be, if it possibly can. You certainly make learning Croatian fun. I hope we can have another lesson sometime soon.”

Iris grinned at that as she got up from her seat at last, thanking Lucy for her day’s lessons and moving towards the door. She stopped just short of leaving the room, doubling back with a look of shame on her face as she looked at her teacher.

“What is it?” asked Lucy worriedly. “Iris?”

“I was supposed to ask you about Sunday,” she said awkwardly. “Papa said I should ask if you wanted to spend the day with us. He’s been away so much lately and when he has been here the weather has been cold or rainy, and we wanted to have a picnic. Since it’s been so sunny lately and Papa is here, he said this Sunday would be a good day and that you should come, if you want to.”

“Oh, well,” said Lucy, struggling to think of a good response. “I, uh, I don’t want to intrude on your day with your father.”

“Please, I’d love for you to come with us,” Iris urged her. “It will only be in the grounds of the house, but the gardens are so beautiful now all the flowers are in bloom. We’ll have sandwiches and cake, and sometimes we read aloud to each other or play silly games. It’ll be fun.”

“Then how can I possibly say no?” said Lucy, shaking her head and smiling widely. “I would love to be a part of your picnic, Iris.”

The little girl was so excited, practically jumping up and down, before flinging her arms around Lucy’s neck to give her a big hug. Before Lucy hardly had a chance to react, Iris was running for the door, no doubt off to tell her papa that they had a guest for their picnic after all.

Lucy sighed, gathering up her books to take back to her room. A Sunday afternoon spent with Garcia sounded wonderful, and she didn’t mind so much that Iris would be there too. Still, she hoped she might get a chance to talk to with him alone before too much longer. As if he heard her wish, she rounded the corner from the school room and almost ran headlong into him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, stepping back and blushing furiously. “Mr Flynn,” she said, nodding her head, eyes darting around as if she expected every other person in the house to come upon them and know just exactly what was going on.

“Miss Preston,” he replied in kind with an amused smile, leaning down closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke close to her ear. “I had not expected you to be so formal today.”

“In the middle of the hallway,” she said, trying not to let the shiver running through her show in her voice, “I am going to be very formal, Mr Flynn,” she said definitely, even as she tried not to smile. “Perhaps on Sunday we might get a real chance to talk?” she suggested, glancing up to meet his eyes.

“You told Iris you would come to the picnic?” he checked, smiling all the wider. “That’s... good.”

“She was coming to tell you but I think she headed towards your study,” Lucy told him, turning to look the other way down the hall. “She’ll probably be back before-”

Her words caught in her throat as she turned back and found Mr Flynn even closer than he had been before, his hands finding her waist and holding her in place.

“Anybody could see us,” Lucy hissed at him, though if he actually did back off right now, she might not be able to stand it. “I don’t want anyone talking about us, not like this.”

He sighed, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on her forehead, the simple action still managing to do things to her that Lucy could never quantify.

“Until Sunday, Lucy,” he said softly, finally letting go of her.

“Until Sunday, Garcia,” she replied in kind, with a smile that he easily returned. “Dobar dan, Mr Flynn,” she then added more loudly, moving away towards her room before he had a chance to respond.

If he was going to play teasing, dangerous games, she could be just as playful in her own way. Let him wonder how she knew those words, until Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Dobar dan’ just means ‘good afternoon’ but he’s still going to wonder how she knows that... until Sunday ;)
> 
> (Please don't expect another update tomorrow just because it's Sunday. Given the trouble this picnic is giving me, it might not even be next Sunday... but I'll try!)


	9. Chapter 9

The moment the household returned from church, Jiya was all but kidnapped by Lucy to help her get ready for the picnic with Mr Flynn and Iris. As much as she would love to believe she looked fine just as she was, Lucy couldn’t quite let herself be satisfied with that. She put on the best of her dresses and decided immediately she looked awful. Jiya apologised for not having something she could lend her herself but insisted that she looked great in what she was wearing anyway.

“Maybe if we did something different with your hair?” she suggested. “If you’re so worried about your dress, distract attention from it?”

“That might work,” Lucy considered, beginning to pull the pins from her hair and letting tendrils falls down about her shoulders.

“Since you’re only going to be in the gardens, and nobody outside of the household is going to see you, why not just wear it down?” said Jiya, grabbing the brush from the nightstand and smoothing down each section of Lucy’s hair.

“I don’t know” said Lucy, biting her lip as she peered into the glass. “You don’t think it looks too... young?”

“Lucy!” Jiya batted her arm with the back of the brush before continuing in her task. “You talk like you’re an old maid.”

“Well, I’m pretty close.” Lucy sighed.

“Pretty I’ll believe,” said her friend smartly, finishing with her hair. “Do you have a ribbon we could use?”

Lucy frowned then moved to the drawer of her nightstand, rifling around until she came up with a length of ribbon and handing it to Jiya.

“I’m going to look ridiculous,” she insisted, even as her friend tied the ribbon into her hair then physically turned her back around to face the mirror, making her look at herself.

“See, the word you’re looking for is not ridiculous, it’s beautiful,” she insisted.

Lucy smiled and put her hand over Jiya’s at her own shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she promised, her reflection smiling back at her.

After that, Jiya had to go and so did Lucy if she didn’t want to be late. She was supposed to be meeting Mr Flynn and Iris in the main foyer at eleven which meant she had only five minutes to get down the stairs. Hurrying as much as she dare, Lucy arrived just as the clock struck eleven, tripping a little on the last step and almost going face first at the feet of the Flynns.

“Lucy!” Iris gasped as she saw her. “You look like a princess!”

“Oh, um, thank you,” she replied, smiling at the compliment even as her cheeks grew hot.

Not that it was only Iris’ words that made her so embarrassed. Even though she was looking at Iris, Lucy was very much aware of Garcia staring, his mouth having fallen open slightly when she made her awkward entrance. She hardly dare look at him but once she risked a glance, it was tough to look away. He was, of course, as handsome as ever, as if she had really expected anything else.

“Papa? Are we going out now?” asked Iris, finally dragging his attention away from Lucy.

“Yes, mališa. Of course,” he told her, finger tapping her nose. “Why don’t you lead the way? I know you’ll pick us the very best spot.”

Iris rushed for the door then as Lucy stepped up beside Garcia and he immediately offered his arm. She took it with no hesitation at all, though she was back to hardly daring to look his way, at least until he spoke to her.

“She’s right, you know? You really could be a princess. You look... Well, like royalty,” he opted for, all other words seeming to fail him.

Lucy giggled through the embarrassment, turning her face away as they walked out into a beautiful spring day. “If I really were a princess, I don’t think I could ask for a better prince charming,” she told him, looking up to meet his eyes then.

That feeling that always came over her in such moments, the one she had discussed with Jiya and her friend had well understood, it seemed to have increased ten-fold somewhere between Lucy and Mr Flynn’s first meeting and now. She swallowed hard then opened her mouth to say something, anything else, but never got the chance.

“Right here,” said Iris, standing a few feet away with her feet firmly planted. “The perfect spot,” she told her father the moment she had his attention. “Don’t you think so, Papa?”

“If it is what you have chosen, Iris, then I believe it is perfect,” he assured her, moving towards her and bringing Lucy with him.

He was soon spreading out the blanket and pulling food and drink from the basket that had been in his free hand this whole time. Lucy hadn’t really noticed. It was only mildly surprising to realise the man of the house had been willing to carry his own provisions and set everything up for himself. He and Iris seemed to delight in being ‘normal’, no servants, no help, nobody but each other. There was a horrible moment when Lucy felt far too much like an intruder, until suddenly Iris leapt up and grabbed at her hand.

“Come sit here, Lucy,” she urged her. “Papa says ladies have to be careful of getting too much sun, so this is the best place for you. The tree makes some shade on this side.”

“Thank you, Iris.” Lucy smiled, lowering herself onto the corner of the blanket. “You’re very thoughtful.”

Garcia looked up and observed the exchange between his daughter and Lucy, seemingly more than happy to see them getting along so well, even outside of the school room.

That part of the day at least Lucy felt comfortable with. She knew very well that she and Iris were friends. It was the undefined relationship between herself and Garcia she hoped to expound on at some point, but that would have to wait, at least for a little while.

That wasn’t to say that Lucy didn’t enjoy what followed. For hours unnumbered, the three sat together, eating good food, talking about all kinds of things. As Iris had suggested, they read aloud from poetry books, played word games and tried to solve riddles. It was nice just to laugh and talk and feel so very relaxed with people she liked so much. Lucy hadn’t had that in a very long time.

As much as she felt for Garcia, she hadn’t been so sure she could ever be quite so comfortable in his company, though she had a feeling that Iris helped. The moment the little girl excused herself to go pick wild flowers and look for frogs in the pond, Lucy felt a little of the tension return to the situation. All she had wanted for days was a chance to be alone with Garcia, but the moment it happened, she had no idea what to say or do for the best.

“So...” she said, eyes on the scattered books and leftover food on the blanket still. “Thank you again for inviting me to come out with you and Iris like this. It’s been a lot of fun.”

“It’s not over yet,” he told her, staring at her in such a way that Lucy could feel the burning sensation of his watching her, so much so she felt compelled to meet his eyes. “You know, when I said Iris picked the perfect spot here, it wasn’t just to please her. The only windows that overlook this part of the garden are in rooms that are never used,” he said, gesturing back towards the house. “We are completely alone, completely out of sight of anyone... at least, until Iris returns. Given her fascination with the wildlife in the pond and all the flowers in the gardens, I think we probably have quite a while,” he told her, leaning closer.

“That’s good.” Lucy nodded, wondering when her own voice became so soft, even as she shifted a little closer too. “Garcia...”

His hand slipping into her hair took her voice away completely as he guided her to him and their lips finally met. It had been something extraordinary when she had dared to kiss him a few days before, but now, to have him take control, to take his turn at showing her all he felt, Lucy was certain she were drowning and didn’t care if she never surfaced. When he finally pulled back a little, she found herself moving with him, not wanting to lose contact. His forehead pressed against her own was enough for a few moments while she got her breath back, she supposed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gasping in air, mind racing with all that she had been wanting to say since the last time something like this happened. “Uh, about the letter. I should’ve replied properly, I wanted to,” she told him quickly. “I just knew I was running out of time and my journal had all the words I would’ve said anyway. I felt so foolish after I’d done it-”

“Lucy,” he said, stopping her from rambling any further, “I was honoured that you would share your journal with me, your deepest thoughts and personal feelings. It was what I tried to do with my letter but... even now, I sometimes struggle to say what I mean, in English, at least.”

“Trust me, you did a really good job.” Lucy smiled, her hand at his cheek. “When I started to realise everything I felt for you, I didn’t think... I couldn’t imagine you would ever feel the same. Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not accusing you of anything, but most of the time when a man employs a woman and shows that kind of interest... his intentions aren’t exactly honourable.”

“I understand.” Garcia nodded. “But Lucy, you know now, from my letter... you do know?”

“I do know,” she promised him, unable to bear being so close and not closer as she closed the gap between them again, kissing him one more time. “It’s only that, after the way things went for me the last time... I don’t know, it seemed like too much to hope for. I’m not young enough or inexperienced enough that I think every attraction between a man and a woman is true love. Life is no fairytale. You know that as well as I do.”

“I do,” he agreed, pulling away a little, his expression growing darker. “After Lorena... when she passed away, I never thought I could feel this way again. A part of me believed I never should, but mostly, I just never expected to have such a chance, to meet another person who could make me feel so much again. Then there was you,” he said, smile returning to his lips as he looked at her.

“You were unexpected for me too,” Lucy agreed, mirroring his expression. “I was never married and I never lost anybody the way you did, but... I thought I was in love. Maybe I was, I’m really not sure anymore. All I know is that he hurt me. He... he wasn’t what he seemed. I don’t think I could go through that again,” she admitted, meeting his eyes.

Garcia shook his head. “I would never hurt you, Lucy. Not if it were in my power to avoid it,” he swore faithfully. “You do believe that?”

Lucy swallowed hard and then nodded her head. “I do,” she assured him, watching relief flood through him, feeling much the same emotion in herself. “Well, that part went more smoothly than I thought it might. I hadn’t intended on dragging up my past today, or yours for that matter.”

“What had you intended?” Garcia asked her, hand finding hers on the blanket and taking hold.

She looked up then and met his hypnotic gaze, moving in closer once again.

“I hoped we would get a chance to talk,” she confessed, “and... and that we might be alone together.”

Garcia nodded, tugging on her hand until she moved up closer yet. “Well, we are alone,” he noted, “and I think we’re done talking for now, yes?” 

“Yes.” Lucy nodded slightly, smiling when she realised just exactly what he meant, just barely getting a breath in before his lips covered hers in another beautiful kiss.

This was what she wanted, what she had been dreaming about for so many days and nights in the past few weeks. To be close to Garcia, to know that he cared for her just as much as she cared for him, that this attraction they had was as deep and real as it was for her.

Lucy tried not to let herself think too much as he kissed her, not to allow her mind to ask questions or try to attach too many words to this situation. Nobody said love, nobody said marriage. Someday, that could be where they ended up. For propriety’s sake, it probably should be sooner rather than later, since Lucy was fairly certain if Garcia asked her to be his, she would surrender, regardless of a wedding band or lack of same.

“You,” Garcia gasped, pulling back a moment, “are dangerously intoxicating, Lucy Preston,” he told her, practically holding her at arm’s length.

It wasn’t lost on her that she clearly did much the same to him that he did to her. That should help Lucy to cope with her own almost overpowering desire, but if anything, it made it worse, knowing she could have what she wanted, whether it was the right thing to do or not.

“It is really a good thing that nobody from the house can see us,” she realised, the sunlight bouncing off the windows catching her eye suddenly. “You are sure about that, right?”

“I promise you, Lucy,” Garcia swore, “nobody is watching us. I would never allow you to be put in that kind of position.”

She nodded that she understood, that she absolutely believed and trusted him. Lucy briefly wondered if that made her a fool, especially after everything that had happened with Wyatt, but she couldn’t help it. She would happily give Garcia Flynn her trust, her heart, her body and soul if he asked. A part of her really wished he would ask...

“Papa?”

Iris’ calling voice made Lucy leap away from Garcia like a startled animal. She had just rearranged her skirts over her legs and hoped she had managed to control the flush in her cheeks before Iris suddenly reappeared at the picnic site, a large bunch of flowers clutched in one hand.

“Papa, I saw so many frogs at the pond, and a newt, and then two bluebirds came down to drink. It was beautiful.”

“That sounds wonderful, mališa,” Garcia assured her as she sat down by him on the blanket with the biggest smile on her face. “And you have more than your fair share of pretty flowers too.”

“These aren’t for me.” Iris shook her head, sending her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “I picked them for Lucy,” she insisted, holding out the bunch of blooms in the direction of her startled teacher.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking the flowers. “Iris, really, they’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“I thought they would brighten your room and remind you of all the fun we had today,” Iris told her happily. “You have had fun, haven’t you, Lucy?” she checked, apparently in innocence.

Lucy would have expected nothing less from the ten-year-old daughter of a gentleman, though when her eyes shifted to glance at Garcia, she felt the heat rise in her own cheeks once again. There was nothing at all innocent about the look on his face right in that moment.

“I... I’ve had a lot of fun,” Lucy told Iris honestly, though her focus was very deliberately on her flowers and nothing else. “I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a picnic more in my whole life.”


	10. Chapter 10

Lucy was in a good mood, even though the flowers in the vase on her dresser were beginning to fade. They had lasted pretty well, all things considered, but now there were more that seemed to be wilting than not. Pulling out a few blooms that were far beyond their best, she couldn’t help the smile that still curved her lips. Life was pretty good for Lucy Preston right now and she really hadn’t seen that coming.

It was a week since her picnic with Garcia and Iris, and it had been one of the most beautiful days she could remember having in a long time. She had known for a while that she could get along well enough with Iris as a student, maybe a friend, but now they were even closer and it was wonderful to get to be, at the very least, like an older sister to her young charge. Lucy couldn’t bear to consider being her mother, even if Iris couldn’t really remember Lorena at all. It felt far too much like stepping on the poor woman’s toes and that was already something she had done where Garcia was concerned.

Lucy’s eyes went briefly heavenward and she sighed. Lorena would understand, Garcia had said as much. Apparently, she had been a fairly incredible woman, and when she knew her end was near, she had even told her ever-faithful husband that one day he should move on.

“I never could see a day when I would want such a thing,” he had told Lucy when he explained it all. “Not until you.”

It was one night after dinner that they had the conversation, one of many that occurred this past week. Garcia hadn’t actually invited Lucy to eat with the Flynn family every evening, he had left that to Iris, but Lucy had a feeling the man in her life might just be using his daughter as a cover. She hadn’t tackled the subject with him yet and wasn’t exactly mad about it anyway, but she suspected. Maybe tonight’s after-dinner talk would be the occasion when she asked.

Checking herself in the mirror, Lucy smiled at her reflection then turned to head to the dining room. She had stopped worrying so much about how she dressed when she went to meet with Garcia and Iris now. Of course, she wanted to look nice, but it was actually really wonderful to be accepted for who she was without having to care too much about keeping up appearances. Garcia certainly never looked at Lucy as if she were anything less than beautiful, which was still taking some getting used to, but she certainly didn’t mind it at all.

“Lucy!” Iris greeted her with a large smile as they met in the dining room. “I found the book,” she said excitedly, handing the thin volume to her teacher.

“Oh, thank you,” she said gratefully, flipping the pages. “This is wonderful, Iris.”

She glanced at Garcia who was smiling widely at her from the other side of the table. Iris was as determined as ever in her attempts to teach Lucy more Croatian and had gone so far as to seek out a book that her father had used when teaching her words when she was younger.

“We brought it on the ship, all the way from Croatia,” said Iris proudly.

“Well, I promise to take very good care of it,” Lucy said definitely. “Thank you, again.”

They sat down to eat then, Garcia pulling out the chair for both the ladies in his life. Lucy tried not react if his hand happened to brush past her shoulder when he moved away again, but it didn’t come easy. For now, at least, they had decided Iris shouldn’t know what was between them. A ten-year-old girl was ultimately not going to be able to keep a secret and there were already enough rumours flying around the house and probably further afield in the local area. No point adding fuel to the fire.

Hours later, when Iris had gone to bed, Lucy and Garcia were sharing the chaise, her curled into his side with his arm around her as they talked about that very subject.

“Does it bother you?” he asked her. “What people might be saying?”

“Not exactly.” Lucy sighed. “I just... I feel like I’ve spent too many years having people throw assumptions and accusations at me. I know I haven’t exactly lived a blameless life, but... but why is everybody so fast to judge?” she asked in earnest, looking up at Garcia.

“I don’t know, draga,” he said, planting a gentle kiss on her hair line.

Lucy smiled. “Well, I don’t know that one,” she said of his Croatian endearment. “And somehow, I don’t think it will be in Iris’ book that she leant to me.”

Garcia laughed at that, a sound that Lucy had quickly become well-accustomed to recently and loved to encourage out of him at every opportunity.

“Literally, it means dear or beloved,” he told her.

“Hmm, I like it,” Lucy told him nodding her head. “What else are you going to teach me tonight?”

She didn’t mean for the words to come out quite so soft, so strangely suggestive. She really had just meant to ask him about Croatian vocabulary. Iris liked to teach her the basics, the building blocks of the language, the things she had been taught herself as a young child by her dear Papa. Late in the evenings, Lucy learnt other things from Garcia, other words and phrases that a child of Iris’ age would never need to know.

Lucy was gazing up at Garcia as he continued to look thoughtful, about to prompt him to answer her question when a playful smile suddenly came over his lips.

“Zavodnica,” he said with conviction.

Lucy frowned. “Zavodnica?” she repeated, trying her best to match his pronunciation. “What does that mean?”

“It is what you are, Lucy,” he told her definitely, his hand at her cheek. “Zavodnica, a temptress,” he said, drawing her closer and kissing her deeply.

Lucy was sure if she knew the male equivalent word she could easily apply it to Garcia, but all the words, in any language at all, tended to fall right out of her head when he kissed her like that, when he pulled her close as he could get her, and still Lucy ached to be closer somehow.

“Garcia,” she gasped, pulling back before she did something really foolish. “One day somebody is going to walk in that door...”

“They wouldn’t dare without knocking first,” he promised her, smirking a little. “I’m the monster that everybody fears, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not in this house,” she said, daring him to argue with her. “I know how much you love everybody here, all the staff, and they love you too. Jiya would defend you to the death, I’m sure of it.”

“I would hope she never has to,” Garcia considered, fingers running idly through Lucy’s hair still. “She is a good girl. I don’t know what I would do without her sometimes.”

“She’s been a very good friend to me.” Lucy nodded her agreement. “I try to be the same for her, especially since...”

She stopped abruptly when she realised what she had been about to say and to whom. Biting her lip, Lucy shifted back against the cushions of the chaise, wondering how she was ever supposed to explain if Garcia pressed her on what she had been about to say.

“Lucy?” he said, tilting his head and frowning as he stared at her. “Is there something I should know about Jiya?”

“No, nothing,” Lucy assured him, certain it had come out too fast but unable to help it. “She just... she confides in me and I confide in her. Women need each other sometimes. A sister who understands,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

It wasn’t a lie, not really, or maybe it was in some ways, but Lucy knew she could never betray Jiya’s confidence like that. As much as she loved and trusted Garcia, as much as she was sure her friend did too, the secret of Rufus and his weekly visits was too much of a risk. It wasn’t Lucy’s truth to tell.

“Um, it’s getting late,” she noted, eyes catching on the clock on the mantle. “I should go, otherwise I’ll be falling asleep tomorrow when I should be educating your daughter.”

She was smiling as she stood to leave and yet Lucy was sure Garcia could see through her expression to the reality that lie beneath. They hadn’t known each other that long in real terms, but they had found a connection so quickly, a way to understand each other instinctively. That could be wonderful in so many ways, but in this one situation, it could also be dangerous.

“If you want to go, I won’t stop you,” said Garcia, rising to stand in front of her, “but if something is wrong, Lucy...”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she told him definitely, her hands on his arms. “I’m just tired, that’s all. You understand?”

He stared at her a moment more and then slowly nodded his head. “Of course,” he said, smiling once more as he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Sweet dreams, draga.”

“Goodnight, Garcia,” she said, smiling back at him before finally turning to go.

Only when she was out of the room and alone in the hallway did she let out a breath she hardly knew she had been holding. That had been too close.

* * *

Lucy woke with a start, sitting up in her bed and looking towards the fireplace which seemed to be emitting a strange shuffling, scraping sound. Gripping the bedclothes tighter, she watched with some alarm as the central portion of the fireplace suddenly shifted aside like a door and a dark figure emerged into her bedroom.

A shaft of moonlight through the window lit up her midnight visitor and Lucy’s breath hitched in her throat at the sight that met her eyes.

“Garcia.”

He didn’t say anything, just strode over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and leaning over her, lips so close to her own she could already taste him.

“Lucy,” he whispered, before he finally kissed her.

She responded with all the passion she felt, her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as his hands slid down her body and made her gasp...

Lucy woke with a start, to reality this time, she was fairly certain. Sweat beaded on her brow and every inch of her skin was on fire simply from the pictures her imagination had created. She looked to the fireplace, unable to see much since it was actually a moonless night and the room was practically pitch black.

“It was just a dream,” she told herself softly, and yet a part of her wondered somehow.

Slipping out of bed, Lucy carefully padded over to the fireplace, hand moving over the patterns in the stonework as she felt for some kind of switch or lever that might open a door, just as Jiya had done in her own room, the night Lucy met Rufus. There was nothing that Lucy could find to open up a secret passage in her own bedroom. She hadn’t really expected it. After all, it had only been a dream.

Hugging herself, she returned to her bed, laid down and closed her eyes, willing sleep to claim her. It wasn’t going to happen and soon she was staring up at the ceiling, thinking of the man who was probably asleep himself in the bed right above her. He called her a temptress this evening, but honestly, the temptation in Lucy to go to him right now was almost too much to bear. She wouldn’t do it, she wouldn’t dare, but just thinking about it was enough to make her shiver in the best way, enough to make her almost believe that he had cast some spell over her to keep her in thrall. Maybe it was much more simple than that. Maybe Lucy had just fallen completely and utterly in love with Garcia Flynn and didn’t even want to try and stop.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter happened. I don't know if I like how it turned out or not. You guys be the judge, okay?

“Lucy?”

She looked up at the sound of her name and found Jiya staring at her strangely.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Are you feeling alright?” her friend asked her worriedly. “You don’t look so good.”

“I was just thinking... I was going to fetch clean linens from the airing room but I’m not sure exactly what to get. Could you show me again?”

She was sure Jiya would understand the significant look that she gave her when making her request, and from the way she nodded in agreement and bustled her out of the door, Lucy knew she had. Just as soon as the two of them were secreted in the linen closet with the door shut against the rest of the house, Jiya asked what was wrong.

“It’s probably nothing.” Lucy shook her head. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, just in case, but my journal is missing.”

“Your journal?”

“It’s usually in the nightstand by my bed, always in the same place. I never take it out of my room, not for any reason, but this morning, I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

Jiya frowned. “Well, your room is cleaned, obviously, but...”

“But I had my journal last night before I went to bed. I wrote in it, I always do,” she insisted, “but this morning, it’s gone. It’s so strange, because I had this dream... It’s going to sound insane.”

“Tell me.”

Lucy didn’t know if she should. It wasn’t as if Jiya didn’t know that she and Garcia were closer than anyone else might suspect (though Lucy was fairly certain many of them did suspect actually) but to tell her the details of a very intimate dream still seemed like too much somehow.

“I just dreamt that someone came into my room... through the fireplace. I woke up pretty soon after that and... and I even checked the fireplace, but it doesn’t seem to... well, do what yours does.”

“They’re not all connected.” Jiya shook her head. “I can’t speak for your room specifically, but even if someone could gain access, who would try?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Lucy admitted. “You can’t think of anybody who would want to do such a thing, can you?”

Jiya blinked and shook her head. “Of course not,” she insisted. “Some people are more trustworthy than others, obviously, but stealing from your room, while you were sleeping? Who would do that? It’s not like your journal is worth anything to anyone but you, and nothing else was missing?”

“No, nothing else,” Lucy agreed. “Well, nothing obvious. It’s just so strange.”

“It’s probably as simple as you misplaced it and the dream is just making you think it’s more than that,” said Jiya with a kind smile. “I’m sure if you look for it again later, it’ll be there, behind the nightstand or under the bed or something.”

Lucy opened her mouth to argue some more but in the end she didn’t bother. Jiya could have a point, and even if she were wrong, there was no way Lucy wanted to get into a fight with her friend, especially over something so small. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something strange was going on, that somebody really had been in her room last night, taking her journal under cover of darkness while she slept. It didn’t make sense, Lucy knew that, unless... She really didn’t want to accuse Garcia of anything. Her evidence for his taking her journal was flimsy at best and completely ridiculous at worst. She dreamt he came into her room, through a door that didn’t even exist, as far as she could tell. Even if it were possible, it certainly hadn’t been her journal he was after in the dream.

It was on her mind all day, distracting her over dinner to the point where both Garcia and Iris asked if she was feeling alright. Lucy had to insist that she really wasn’t ill, forcing a smile onto her lips for Iris’ benefit until the little girl finally retired to bed. The moment she was gone, Lucy was sure that Garcia, who had evidently seen through her false smile, would bring up the subject again. He didn’t let her down.

“Lucy, something is bothering you,” he said definitely, no question just a statement of fact.

“You know me too well already,” she said, turning away to stare into the fireplace.

Immediately she realised where she had her gaze trained, she wished she had chosen anywhere else. Pretending to warm her hands over the flames, she was hardly aware of Garcia approaching until he was right behind her.

“Draga, please, tell me what is wrong,” he urged her, his hands on her shoulders.

Lucy’s eyes closed of their own volition as her feelings fought within her. She really didn’t know where to begin, but she had to say something. Hiding things wasn’t helping anyone.

“My journal is missing,” she said eventually, keeping her back to him for now. “I had it last night, right before I went to bed, but when I woke up this morning and looked for it again, it was gone.”

When Garcia didn’t answer for several seconds, Lucy finally turned around to face him, tilting her head back so she was able to meet his eyes. He looked genuinely confused, entirely baffled. Lucy was strangely relieved to realise it.

“How could that have happened?” he said, frowning by now, almost seeming to ask himself the question as much as Lucy.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” she admitted. “I’m not accusing anybody, but there are only so many people in the house and... well, I tried to talk to Jiya about it, but she was sure there’s not a thief amongst us. She encouraged me to search my room more thoroughly. I tried, I looked everywhere, even places I knew it could never be. It’s gone.”

Garcia’s hand came up to rub his face as he continued to look so confused by what she was telling him. Still, she couldn’t help the next words that spilled from her lips.

“The only person I ever shared any part of that journal with was you. It is the last thing I would ever want to be seen by _anyone_ in its entirety.”

“Lucy, you don’t think...?” Garcia asked, eyes wide with shock. “After everything, you would accuse me-”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Garcia,” she promised him quickly. “I’m just... I’m trying to understand what happened. It’s not as if I lost a ring or a coin, something so small it could just disappear through a crack or get lost amongst other things. We’re talking about a black leather-bound book, this big,” she gestured with her hands, “with my initials embossed on the cover. It’s almost impossible to lose in a room like mine, and if by some chance it ended up where it shouldn’t be, there would be no mistake of what it was or who it belonged to.”

Before she had hardly finished speaking, Lucy saw something pass over Garcia’s face, a strange expression, a realisation of a kind, she suspected, though she hadn’t an idea what to make of it. She was about to ask him what was wrong when he suddenly let out a string of Croatian words that she didn’t understand at all, though from their angry tone, she would suspect none of them meant anything pleasant.

“Garcia?” she said, taking a step towards him, only for him to spin away, suddenly striding towards the door like a man possessed.

“Stay here!” he told her, a command not a request as he left her alone.

Lucy determined to go after him, rushing as far as the doorway, but he was already gone from sight. She was tempted to yell after him, but wasn’t so sure she wanted the whole household to know that anything was going on.

With a growl of frustration, Lucy turned back into the room and paced a little, until finally a slamming door down the hall got her attention and she moved back towards the doorway to see what was going on. Her eyes were wide with shock when she realised Garcia had returned, eyes wild, one hand gripping the collar of a man that he was practically dragging down the corridor towards her.

“Garcia, what are you doing?” she asked him frantically.

“Out of the way,” he said coldly, the only response Lucy was to expect apparently.

She complied out of necessity more than anything else, moving back into the parlour and watching with confusion and concern as Garcia threw the man unceremoniously at her feet. When he rolled over, Lucy saw blood trickling down his chin and real fear in his eyes.

“Karl?” she gasped at the sight. “Garcia, what did you do?”

“Here is your thief,” said Garcia angrily. “Tell her!” he yelled down at his manservant who struggled even to sit up. “Tell her what you have done!”

Lucy was so shocked she didn’t know what to think. She had no idea why Karl would steal her journal, it made no sense. She certainly hadn’t been prepared to see this side of Garcia. She suddenly realised that if this was all she had ever seen of him, perhaps she would understand why those who didn’t know him branded him a tyrant all too easily.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” said Karl, coughing before he went on. “I just... I was trying to protect you, Mr Flynn.”

At his confession, Garcia only laughed, a cold-blooded sound that made Lucy wince when she heard it. It was nothing like the warm, humour-filled chuckle she knew so well from when he was alone with her or with Iris.

“Why would I need your protection, slaboumnik?” he said, moving to kick out at Karl, but Lucy intervened.

“Stop, please,” she urged Garcia, her hand on his arm, pulling him away. “Please,” she said again, meeting his gaze. “You want him to explain, then let him, please.”

Garcia looked down at her, saying nothing, but then slowly nodded once and took a pace back to let her have her way.

“Okay,” said Lucy, turning to look at Karl. “Where is my journal?” she asked him simply.

“Back where I found it,” he admitted, glancing away. “I waited until I knew you would be at dinner and I put it back.”

“But why take it in the first place?”

“I told you already,” Karl said, sounding bitter. “I wasn’t sure you were what you seemed. Some people aren’t,” he said, gaze shifting from Lucy to Garcia stood right behind her.

She turned to look at him too, wondering what she was missing. There was clearly much more to this than she was hearing, perhaps much more to the man she thought she loved than she ever could’ve imagined. It made everything inside her twist into knots that left Lucy squirming. She didn’t like this situation one bit, but she could take control of it if she wanted to, at least, she hoped she could.

“Garcia,” she said, getting his full attention on her. “I know you’re angry, I’m not exactly happy with what Karl has done either, but he didn’t mean any harm.”

His eyes went wide at her words. “Didn’t mean any harm? He came into your room while you were sleeping and stole from you!” he all but exploded. “I trusted him.”

“And he has been loyal to you!” Lucy countered, just as loudly, before remembering herself and the fact the whole house could probably hear them by now. “Garcia, he thought he was doing the right thing. He was misguided but he’s not the devil you’re treating him as.”

Her heart was hammering in her chest, a feeling she had grown accustomed to around Garcia, but never like this. He inspired a different kind of passion in her before, but Lucy would be damned if she would cower before his anger or allow him to use a crime against her as a reason for violence to another.

“Karl?” she said, even as her eyes remained locked onto Garcia’s own. “I think you should go.”

He was on his feet by now, but wary of moving towards the door when his master stood there still, formidable and angry as he had ever been. Lucy waited for one man to move so that the other might, but nothing happened.

“Garcia, please,” she urged him. “If you care for me the way I believe you do...”

She didn’t need to say more. Though he was clearly far from happy, he did step aside, turning his face away so he didn’t have to see as Karl slinked out of the room at last. 

Lucy sighed with relief. The last thing she wanted was to see the man beaten into submission, despite his foolish behaviour. Her priority now was calming Garcia down and trying to establish whatever possessed him to react the way he had.

“He can’t stay here,” he said suddenly, pointing angrily out of the door. “I won’t have him in my house if that is the kind of behaviour he thinks is acceptable.”

“That’s your right,” Lucy agreed, swallowing hard, “but please, don’t do anything rash on my account. I agree that he did something stupid and I’m not exactly happy to think he’s been reading my personal thoughts and feelings,” she said, only grateful to think that she had written nothing about Jiya’s relationship with Rufus in those private pages. “My guess would be that when I described my journal, you realised you saw Karl reading a book that looked like it?”

Garcia looked at her and slowly nodded. “You have to know, Lucy, that if I had realised what it was-”

“I’ve already seen your reaction,” Lucy reminded him, shaking her head. “I don’t want to think about how much worse it might’ve been if I hadn’t been here to stop you.”

She didn’t want to be afraid of him. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she could summon that kind of fear in herself, even if she should. Garcia wasn’t a bad man, he meant to protect her, avenge her perhaps, but she didn’t want him to be that way over something so simple.

“Lucy, I’m sorry, but the thought of him...” he tried to explain, looking deeply pained. “He violated your trust, your privacy. He was in your room while you slept!” he repeated, anger clearly rising with every word.

“Which does not make me happy, at all,” she said definitely, “but he didn’t attack me, he never touched me. Yes, he stole from me, but it’s just a journal, Garcia. I’m glad to have it back and I’m not exactly thrilled that somebody else read it, but I’m fairly certain Karl wasn’t looking for secrets to broadcast to the world. He was protecting you. He thought I might be... well, at best, out to take you for your money, and at worst, a person who would genuinely try to hurt you. You called him disloyal, but he’s not. Actually, he’s probably the most dedicated employee you have... and you beat him for his trouble,” she said, eyeing the very real blood on his hand.

It seemed to occur to Garcia, somewhere in her speech, that she had a point. The angry beast that had surged up inside him in the name of protecting her honour had shrunk back down to the man she knew, the man she loved. In his eyes, she now saw regret and pain. He knew very well that he had gone too far, and yet, in similar circumstances, Lucy suspected he would do it all again in a heartbeat, for her.

With her own heart still hammering in her chest, Lucy suddenly felt the chain of events catching up to her and she sat down rather heavily in the nearest chair, her hand going to her head a moment. She could feel faint if she let herself, but had been fighting against it a while. Now it was sit down or a fall down, so she chose the former over the latter.

Through all this, she kept on looking at Garcia, watching him think over what had happened and realise the truth of it. She was startled when he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching out to tentatively take a hold of both her hands in both of his own.

“Lucy, I’m sorry,” he told her, shaking his head. “It’s only that I care for you so much. To think that anyone would hurt you...”

“But he didn’t hurt me,” she reminded him. “Not really, not so badly that he needed to be thrown around like that. Garcia, I... I thought I knew you, but when you were... I didn’t recognise you at all. Maybe it was foolish to think that we know each other well enough to pursue whatever this is between us.”

“No, Lucy. Please, don’t turn away from me now, I beg of you” said Garcia helplessly, gripping her hands so tight. “I am not a perfect man, I never claimed to be, but I need you in my life. I... I cannot... Ne znam kako da objasnim. Misliš mi sve, ljubavi moja. Ja ne mogu živjeti bez tebe. Molim te, hoceš li se udati za mene? Molim?”

Lucy shook her head, only understanding a fraction of what he was saying, tears filling her eyes as she realised just how desperate he had so quickly become. She wanted to help him, hated to see him hurting, but she didn’t have a clue what he was so urgently pleading for.

“Garcia, please, you know I don’t understand.”

“Lucy, I... I’m telling you that I love you, only you, and that... that I want you to be my wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Croatian translations:  
slaboumnik - imbecile or cretin  
Ne znam kako da objasnim. Misliš mi sve, ljubavi moja. Ja ne mogu živjeti bez tebe. Molim te, hoceš li se udati za mene? Molim? - I don't know how to explain. You mean everything to me, my love. Please, will you marry me? Please?


	12. Chapter 12

Lucy turned the pages of her journal, fingers running over her own words in her own handwriting but not recognising any of it somehow. It was strange how someone else gaining access to her private thoughts and emotions made her feel so disconnected from them. Sharing these things on purpose with a loved one could be wonderful, but to have them taken, exposed, dug into against her will, it was strangely painful and altogether embarrassing.

For all of his threats, Garcia hadn’t thrown Karl out. Lucy had a feeling he absolutely would have done it if she hadn’t insisted he didn’t. Her opinion seemed to matter to him more than most, even now, even after everything. Lucy stared down at her journal as she reached the place where she had prised the pages free so she might give them to Garcia. In that spot, she had placed his letter to her, and so it remained. Karl must have read that too and Lucy winced at the thought. He knew everything and that meant others might too. Lucy’s reputation could be unsalvageable after such a thing, unless marriage followed.

Her eyes closed at the thought and she put her journal aside into the nightstand, closing the drawer with a thud. Yes, Garcia had proposed marriage to her, something she had thought she wanted, up until the time when he actually asked for her hand. She saw a different side to him that night, a side she didn’t particularly wish to see again.

There was nothing wrong with having a protective instinct, Lucy wouldn’t want a husband who cowered at the first sign of trouble, but Garcia’s reaction to Karl taking her journal had been so severe, so out of character as far as she could tell, and yet every time she thought it, Lucy had to remind herself that maybe she just didn’t know him as well as she thought.

Even the nature of his proposal wasn’t at all what she expected or wanted. There was a horrible twisting feeling in Lucy’s stomach every time she considered the chain of events that led to his begging her to be his wife. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t life-or-death, it wasn’t any kind of situation that might make someone suddenly feel the need to propose marriage. All Lucy could think was that Garcia saw her reputation about to be torn to shreds and sought to save her in some way by making her his wife. It would work, if that was what he intended, but it wasn’t what she wanted at all.

Of course, he had also said he loved her and Lucy didn’t like to doubt that. She was already fairly certain that she loved him too, but after everything, she wondered if she should, if she could ever really trust him after all that she had seen.

Her head was starting to ache with the pressure of thinking about it all and she decided she just shouldn’t dwell on things she couldn’t change anymore. Pulling out her books, she looked at the lessons she would be going over with Iris today and tried to keep her focus on that alone. It worked to a degree, and yet, an hour later, when she was sat in the school room with her young pupil, Lucy couldn’t help but want to ask Iris about her dearest papa.

It was a little more than a day since Garcia’s outburst that had left Karl bleeding and Lucy shaken and confused. She hadn’t seen him since. After she told him she didn’t know what to say to his proposal and needed time, he promised to allow her that, leaving her to think over all he had said. She had sent a message to say she wouldn’t be at dinner last night and had not seen anything of Garcia this morning either, though in honesty, she hadn’t exactly gone looking for him. That didn’t mean she didn’t care, that she wasn’t concerned about him and how he was feeling too.

“Are you feeling better, Lucy?” asked Iris then, catching her teacher unawares.

“I... I’m fine” she assured her, hoping her smile seemed genuine enough to fool a ten-year-old - as smart as Iris was, probably not. “I’m sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“We were sorry too. I think Papa hoped to see you before he went away again.”

“He’s going away?” Lucy asked, realising too late quite how desperate her words must have sounded.

“He left very early this morning,” Iris explained. “I don’t think he wanted to go, he seemed sad about something but he wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“Did Karl go with him?” asked Lucy, eyes on her books as she waited for Iris’ reply.

“Karl always goes everywhere with Papa,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t remember a time when we didn’t have Karl here.”

Lucy smiled across the table at Iris then encouraged her to get back to her math problems since they were not going to solve themselves. As the little girl worked, Lucy let her mind wander just a little. Garcia had clearly seen the error of his ways if Karl not only still had employment in the house but had been taken on this latest business trip without hesitation.

It made Lucy think that perhaps two nights ago truly had been out of character for Garcia Flynn. She hoped so. The only other option was that the entire situation with him and Karl and the journal was a ruse from the start, perhaps to show that Garcia was able to protect her, would do anything for her. No, Lucy didn’t want to believe him capable of anything like that, she couldn’t ever. One look at Iris reminded her what a wonderful father he could be, what a great man he really was. Garcia would not deceive her, he had only gone too far in trying to be everything she needed, to keep her safe and well. It probably wasn’t so surprising after losing his first wife and everything.

Iris sighed and Lucy asked her what was wrong. She watched as the little girl marked a line through her workings and began again.

“Why is it that the problems that look easy always turn out to be the hardest?” she asked, making a second attempt.

Lucy smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, life can be that way sometimes,” she said, thinking of far more than math problems. “Sometimes things that seem like they should add together easily just don’t work, and sometimes... sometimes no matter how many times you try, you can’t make them.”

“That doesn’t mean we should give up, does it?” asked Iris, looking up at Lucy with confusion pinching her forehead. “Papa says that it’s important to always try your best, even when things seem impossible.”

Lucy’s smile was a little less sad this time. “That’s very good advice. Your father is a very intelligent man, Iris.”

“I know,” she said proudly. “You know, I think he likes you very much, Lucy. He doesn’t have very many friends, but he’s always so happy when you’re with us.”

“I’m happy when I’m with both of you too,” Lucy told her, swallowing hard. “Coming here to this house, well, it was hard for me. I didn’t know anybody and I wasn’t sure if I’d fit in.”

“But you do.” Iris smiled. “I think you fit in perfectly. Papa thinks so too.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Not exactly, but I can tell. He always smiles so much if I mention you and when you walk into the room too. Haven’t you noticed?”

Lucy wasn’t sure how to answer that. She had noticed, of course she had, and Garcia had told her enough times just how happy she made him, how much he cared about her. Two nights ago, he had declared his love and offered her marriage, which ought to be the ultimate admission of feelings and dedication, and yet...

“We’re really not very good at concentrating on the lessons today, are we?” said Lucy, when she realised Iris was still waiting for her answer. “Come on, let’s finish up these math problems and maybe later you can teach me some more Croatian.”

If anything was going to inspire Iris to concentrate on her work, it was allowing her the chance to play teacher when she was done. Lucy hoped she would be able to concentrate enough herself to learn something from Iris, but it wasn’t going to be easy, not today.

* * *

“You know he’ll be back before you know it,” said Jiya with a knowing smile as she looked at Lucy.

“I’m sorry?” she checked, hardly aware of what had been said, her mind had wandered so far away.

“Mr Flynn,” Jiya told her. “These trips are never more than a couple of days if he can help it, then he’ll be back again,” she told her friend with a smile.

It was obvious Jiya thought the only problem Lucy had was missing the man she loved. That was true, she did miss him, but there was so much more to it than that, so much she hardly dared to share, not even with Jiya.

It was almost as if none of the other staff had heard the commotion the night that Garcia had turned on Karl. It was amazing to Lucy that nobody overheard anything, but perhaps they had, perhaps they were just used to it. If she didn’t ask, then Lucy supposed she would never know for sure.

“Jiya? Has Mr Flynn ever... I mean, have you ever seen him angry?” she asked carefully, keeping her voice low so the rest of the staff milling around in the kitchen wouldn’t hear.

“Well, sometimes.” Jiya shrugged. “Everybody gets angry about something at some point,” she said, frowning a little. “Why would you ask that? You two haven’t been fighting, have you?”

“Not exactly.” Lucy shook her head. “We... There was some disagreement, some confusion over... It doesn’t matter now,” she insisted, sure it was better if she didn’t explain somehow. “I was just wondering, in a general way, if he... if he had a temper?”

The look on Jiya’s face suggested she knew something, had seen or heard something that was relevant to the conversation, and yet, Lucy had a feeling she wasn’t going to share. She didn’t really think she could blame her. Jiya was loyal to her boss, as Karl was, as they all seemed to be. They had no reason not to be, since he always treated them so well. If Garcia had blown up at anyone, she doubted it was anybody that didn’t deserve it, at least in his opinion.

Jiya looked over her shoulder at the others, then moved further into the corner, gesturing for Lucy to go with her. In whispered tones, she began to explain.

“I only saw him really get mad twice in the whole time I’ve been here,” she said quickly. “The first time, he had just hired a new man to work in the gardens. He seemed trustworthy, decent, and everything, very good at his job, and he worked hard, but he had a problem. The moment he was paid, he spent it all in the tavern in town. He came back to the house late in the night in a really bad way and... and he didn’t want to take no for an answer with the kitchen maid.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, feeling sick. “Was she...?”

“She was okay. Mr Flynn heard all the yelling and he came and dealt with the situation before anything too awful happened, but I had never seen him so angry. Not that I blame him,” she added fast.

“In the circumstances, it sounds as if he was justified.” Lucy nodded her agreement. “What was the other time?”

“I don’t really know what that was about.” Jiya shook her head. “It was after one of his business trips, not long before you started here actually. He arrived back, we welcomed him home, but he was just... There was a darkness in his eyes. I tried to ask what was wrong and he snapped at me, which he had never done before, then charged up to his room like he was possessed or something. We didn’t see him for a whole day, but after that, he was back to normal. He apologised to me, said it would never happen again, and it never did.”

Lucy listened to everything Jiya said and felt barely any further forward. It seemed to take a lot to make Garcia as angry as she had seen him, and on one occasion at least she could understand why he had acted with violence. The second time was strange, though there was nothing to say he hadn’t been just as justified in his anger then too. There was no telling what might’ve happened on his journey home and it was unlikely he would ever want to share it with anyone, except perhaps for Karl, and Lucy didn’t feel like she could ask him about it, even if he were in the house right now.

“He’s not a bad person, Lucy,” Jiya insisted, clearly concerned by whatever she saw cross over her friend’s face. “He’s very protective and... and he likes to see justice done.”

“I understand.” Lucy nodded. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t even have asked you about it, it’s just... I want to know him better and it feels so hard to get to a place where I can, you know, in the circumstances.”

Jiya said that did make sense, but then someone else called for her attention and she had to go. Lucy stood alone for a moment, thinking over all that she had heard. Maybe she had been too fast to fall for Garcia, but also too fast to judge him when all he was really trying to do was protect her in his own way.

Until he came home, there really was nothing she could do to make it right, and nothing she had heard so far helped her to know if she should agree to marry him or not. Still in turmoil, Lucy tried to concentrate on the task at hand and not worry too much until Garcia returned. She tried and would continue to do so, but somehow, she doubted she was going to get very far at all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologise for what's about to happen... but there is method to my madness, so have faith, dear readers ;)

Oddly, Mr Flynn was away on his latest business trip for almost four whole days before he returned. The carriage was seen approaching and the staff leapt into action, all except Lucy, who was in the school room with Iris finishing up her day’s lessons. They were completely unaware that anything was happening, until something akin to a scream was heard from below.

“What was that?” asked Iris with genuine terror on her face.

“I’m sure everything is fine,” Lucy assured her, though inside her heart was racing with the shock and panic. “You stay right here, finish reading, and I’ll check to see what’s going on.”

Iris nodded her ascent but was visibly pale as she put her eyes back on her book. Lucy swallowed hard and hurried to the door, hand shaking as she reached for the knob and turned. She stepped out, pulling the door closed again behind her so that Iris wouldn’t be subject to whatever noise or even danger may lie beyond.

Lucy moved down the hall a little, seeing no-one and hearing nothing, then suddenly, there was a clatter of heavy footfalls and Karl appeared from the stairs. Lucy physically jumped and backed up a step on instinct.

“Miss Preston,” he said, nodding his head. “It’s you I was looking for. You need to come with me.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

After the events of a few nights ago, she really wasn’t sure if she trusted him. Her hand reached behind her to the nearby table, fingers curling around the heavy candlestick it held. At this angle, Karl was unlikely to notice and she felt better knowing she was armed in some way, just in case.

“Mr Flynn is asking for you... or he was,” said Karl, shaking his head and looking pained. “He... he’s not well.”

Lucy’s heart clenched just imagining how bad it could be. Of course, she was still wary of Karl and wondering if he was telling her the truth. A man who broke into a woman’s room at night and stole her journal to find out if she could be trusted might be loyal to someone, but Lucy knew it wasn’t her that had his faith and trust.

“Where is he?” she asked of Garcia then.

“The footmen said they could manage to get him to his room while I came to find you,” Karl explained. “I know you have no reason to trust me, Miss Preston, and I’m truly sorry for... for what I’ve done, but Mr Flynn is... He needs you at his side. If nothing else, I think it would help for him to know you were close by. The doctor has been sent for but...”

The pain in his eyes was real enough, Lucy was sure on that. She didn’t have to know him well to see the truth of it. His master meant everything to him, it was why he had done what he had, breaking into Lucy’s room and violating her privacy. At no point had she doubted Karl’s loyalty to Garcia. In his way, he loved the man he served too.

“Go,” she said to him. “Please, go and make sure he’s comfortable. I need to let Iris know what’s happening, she was frightened by the screaming.”

“One of the maid’s was startled by the state he was in.” Karl sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I... I only hope the doctor comes in time and that there’s something he can do.”

Lucy swallowed hard. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” she said, hoping more than believing it were true. “I need to go back to Iris, but I’ll be there soon.”

Karl nodded his understanding and then hurried away, back the way he had come. The moment he was out of sight, Lucy felt her knees buckling and grabbed hold of the table with both hands so she wouldn’t fall. The idea of Garcia being so ill made her feel physically sick herself, and the thought of telling Iris all about it only made matters worse. Still, the poor girl had to be told something and Lucy was the only one there to do it right now.

Taking a couple of deep, calming breaths, she eventually righted herself and went back to the school room. Iris must have finished reading the chapter, having closed up her book and just sat there waiting impatiently, hands folded on the table, feet jiggling restlessly beneath the chair.

“What’s happening?” she asked Lucy the moment she realised she was back.

“Iris, sweetheart, your papa is back from his trip,” she said, retaking her seat and reaching to put her hand over Iris’ own. “The problem is that he’s not feeling very well, so Karl is helping him into bed and he’s going to get some rest, then I’m sure he’ll be much better.”

“Are you sure?” asked Iris with a shake in her voice. “Can’t I go and see him?”

“Well, not right now, because like I said, he needs his rest, but I’m sure you can see him tomorrow when he’s feeling better.”

Lucy felt awful saying all this, knowing she may be lying to the poor child. She had no way to know how bad Garcia was, if what he had could be cured by sleep, by medicine, by anything. She didn’t know if he was contagious or in danger, but there was no way to tell all of that to a girl of ten who loved her father so very much.

“Papa hardly ever gets sick,” said Iris worriedly.

“That’s because he’s so strong and healthy,” said Lucy with a brave smile she hoped to share with the little girl. “That’s a good sign, it means he’ll probably be over this illness in no time at all.”

“You really think so?” Iris checked.

Lucy nodded her head, heart breaking when she saw a lone tear streak down Iris’ cheek. Opening her arms to the little girl, she was not surprised when Iris ran right into her and clung on tight, crying so hard. Lucy wanted to cry too, but tried to hold back for now. She had to be brave for Iris and then she had to be strong for Garcia. It was all she could do right then.

* * *

By the time Lucy reached Garcia’s room, the doctor was already with him. She had been so long trying to comfort Iris that she wasn’t exactly surprised, but she couldn’t blame the poor child. Lucy knew she would be crying just as hard if she thought it would do any good, but she had to be stronger, for now, at least. It was clear Jiya was fighting to do the same, to be stronger, but she was struggling to hold it all together.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” she said, sniffling through the words. “Lucy, he’s... he was just so pale. I’ve never... He’s always so strong.”

“He still is,” Lucy told her, swallowing down her own panic and taking Jiya’s hands in both of her own. “He’ll fight this, whatever it is. You and I both know he will.”

The doctor stepped out of the room, glanced between Lucy and Jiya, then back at Karl who hovered behind him. One nod from the manservant seemed to let the doctor know he should tell the women everything, in spite of his better judgement.

“He’s resting,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ve prescribed a draught, plus plenty of clear fluids. Keep him warm, even if he complains of it. The only way is to sweat out the infection.”

“It is an infection?” said Lucy worriedly. “Is it bad?”

The doctor said nothing but the grim look on his face spoke volumes. “I’ll return tomorrow,” he said then, nodding once before taking his leave.

Jiya looked stricken as she watched him go, then quickly rushed back down the stairs without looking back. Lucy thought about going after her but assumed she would rather be alone for now. Besides, Garcia was her first priority and finally it seemed she would get the chance to see him.

“Are you going to less me pass?” she asked Karl who was stood in the doorway yet. “You did ask me to come to him, didn’t you?”

Karl nodded, but didn’t immediately move aside. “I’m sorry, Miss Preston. Truly sorry for what I did to you.”

“I know,” she told him quickly, “but now is not the time for your guilt and contrition. He needs us to be strong and a united front in the face of what he’s suffering,” she said, relieved to realise her voice hadn’t cracked yet, as she feared it might.

“I’ll go and check on Jiya and fetch fresh water,” Karl said then, moving away from his post and allowing Lucy to pass.

Just as soon as she had the chance to go through the open doorway, Lucy wasn’t so sure she wanted to. She thought she was prepared for the sight that would meet her eyes when she crossed the threshold, but she was wrong, so very wrong.

“Oh my God!” she gasped, hands covering her face for a moment as she collected herself.

Jiya hadn’t been exaggerating about how pale he looked. Poor Garcia was whiter than the sheets on his bed and appeared so tired and drawn. It seemed ridiculous to think that just a few days ago he had the strength to drag a fully-grown man through the house and bodily throw him into a room. Now, Lucy would be surprised if he could raise his own head without a struggle. It was truly frightening how fast these things could take hold of a person.

“Garcia?” she said as she neared the bed, perching on the very edge and reaching out a shaking hand to his face. “Garcia, can you hear me?” she asked him desperately, tears brimming in her eyes and cascading onto her cheeks as she waited for some kind of response that never came.

If she hadn’t been close enough to see the slow rise and fall of his chest, Lucy would’ve wondered if he was even still with her, and even then, each breath seemed laboured and painful. Shifting closer, she let her hand linger at his cheek as she spoke softly to him.

“I’m so sorry. I wish you hadn’t left before we got a chance to talk. The last thing I wanted was for you to think that I don’t care, that I... Garcia, I was scared, that’s all. I didn’t understand, but please, please don’t leave me. Not when we just found each other...”

Words failed her then, her head falling onto his chest as she cried. So much for being strong, Lucy knew she would have to find that strength again in time, but for now, all she had were tears and regrets and pain. Still, she knew that nothing she suffered was as bad as what Garcia was going through. She only hoped he could make it back from the brink to be with her again. It had never been more clear to Lucy than it was in that moment that she simply didn’t know how to live without him anymore.

* * *

It took four days. Lucy had never been a nurse before but she learnt fast. Jiya and Karl both played their parts too, but it was usually Lucy who could be found by Garcia Flynn’s bedside. She would talk to him as he slept, read to him sometimes when she ran out of things to say. She mopped the sweat from his brow, tried to calm him when he raged in his sleep, cried over words she didn’t understand when he rambled incoherently in broken English, and more so Croatian, during bouts of delirium. The doctor came every day, looking no less grim about the whole situation, but Lucy was determined that Garcia would come through this infection eventually.

Not for the first time, she fell asleep at her patient’s bedside, head pillowed on her arms next to his slumbering form. She was utterly exhausted from the exertion of both taking care of the man she loved and worrying constantly for his condition.

As she slept, Lucy dreamt of the two of them together, in scenes she knew from reality, like at their picnic, or sharing secrets in the parlour alone after dinner. Other pictures, she created for herself, of a future they might yet have, if only things could work out so well.

“My beautiful Lucy.”

She smiled at the words, the sound of his voice, the feel of his fingers threading through her hair fallen loose from its pins. Her eyes fluttered open and reality seeped in to Lucy’s tired mind, and yet she could still hear him, still feel his touch.

“Garcia?” she said, lifting her head, almost afraid that her hopes were about to be dashed one more time, but no. “Oh my... You’re awake. Garcia, you’re awake!” she said joyously, throwing herself into his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she told him, immediately pulling back when she both heard and felt him wince at the impact. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he promised, even if he did also look relieved that she was not pressing all of her weight onto his chest right now. “Since you’re here in my room looking very pleased to see me, I assume the diagnosis was not good?” he said carefully.

Lucy sank back into her seat, tears leaking from her eyes all over again, though at least some of them were for joy and relief now, instead of worry and pain.

“You were very sick,” she told him, swiping at her eyes. “We were so worried. Poor Iris, she... she so wanted to see you, but as bad as you were, and we didn’t know if she might catch it from you, and...”

“Lucy,” he said gently, reaching to take a hold of her hand and squeezing. “You did the right thing. I’m sure you did all the right things,” he said definitely.

A smile came to her lips unbidden and then a strange burst of laughter escaped in much the same way. It had to be the relief and the shock and all the emotion of the last few days getting the better of her.

“I’m so happy you’re awake,” she told him, shaking her head in wonder. “For a while there, I really thought...”

She couldn’t say it, just couldn’t bear to let the words out into the world for fear that some terrible twist of fate would make it happen, that he really would be taken away from her this time.

“I’m going to be just fine, Lucy,” Garcia promised her. “Actually, I feel... strangely hungry,” he admitted then, free hand going to his stomach.

At that, Lucy laughed all the more. “Well, that has to be a good sign,” she said, nodding her head. “I should go get you something, some soup or bread or... I’m not sure what we have, but whatever there is, I’ll get it,” she said definitely, getting up from her seat.

His tight hold on her hand stopped her getting any further.

“You have been here, all this time?” he checked, frowning a little.

Lucy wasn’t sure what was confusing him, the fact she had sat by him in his time of need or the uncertainty of exactly how long his illness had lasted. On both counts, she decided to put him out of his misery.

“Four days,” she said, swallowing hard, “and yes, most of the time, I’ve been here. Where else would I be when you needed me?”

When she met his eyes then and he stared back at her with that same steady gaze that had never failed to have an effect on her, Lucy knew he was completely lucid, entirely back in the land of the living, and if it were possible, as in love with her as ever. She knew that feeling because it was overtaking her in every way as they just took a moment to take each other in anew.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said with some kind of wonder in his voice.

“I think you do,” Lucy told him honestly, “but there’ll be plenty of time to talk about that later. Right now, you need food, and I need to go and get cleaned up because I am really not comfortable with you seeing me looking like this,” she said, only half-joking as she looked herself over.

Garcia smiled, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “You are beautiful, always,” he promised her, “and just when I thought I couldn’t love you any more than I already do, I feel as if I might after all.”

It took maybe two seconds of thought before Lucy moved closer, leaning over the bed to plant a sweet kiss on Garcia’s lips.

“If it wasn’t obvious already, I love you too,” she said softly, before withdrawing, pulling her hand from his grip and moving quickly to the door. “I’ll get you that food now,” she said, running out before another word could be spoken.

On the other side of the door, Lucy drew in a deep breath and steadied herself. Garcia Flynn was alive, he was on the mend, as far as she could tell, and he loved her still. She loved him too, as if she could ever have doubted such a thing. Perhaps the chance for a happy ending did exist, and yet, Lucy knew it was rarely that simple. There was still much to talk about, more than she even wanted to consider right now, but that couldn’t matter for the moment.

With a smile on her lips, Lucy rushed to find Jiya, Karl, Iris, everyone in the house who loved Garcia Flynn so much, to give them the good news. It seemed as if he was going to be just fine. The worst was over.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of emotional angstiness. Though it ends pretty well, please brace accordingly.

Perhaps the only person more thrilled to see Garcia Flynn recovering from his illness than Lucy herself was Iris. The child was in raptures when she was finally allowed to see her father, hugging and kissing him for all she was worth, talking so fast Lucy would’ve been amazed if she could keep up, even if Iris had been speaking in English. As it was, she and her dearest papa chattered away a while in their mother tongue, until Garcia confessed he needed more rest yet and Iris allowed him the chance.

Though he was better, and the doctor confirmed the real danger had passed, it took several more days before he really started to seem like himself again. Lucy couldn’t help but feel guilty, for with every day that passed, as glad as she was to see Garcia doing so much better, she knew what was looming in the background. At some point, they were going to have to talk about before, about what came next, about their relationship and what happened next.

The last thing he had said to her before he went away on his trip was a desperate plea that she become his wife. Somehow, that moment now seemed like a lifetime ago, and yet it was hardly any time at all. Lucy knew what her answer ought to be, what she so wanted it to be, and yet she was wary still. She had some explaining to do, so did Garcia, and at last the day came when he seemed strong enough for such a conversation.

“It is good to be somewhere other than my own room,” he said, sitting himself down on the chaise in the parlour.

“I’m sure,” Lucy agreed, nodding her head.

The fact they were in the very same room where his proposal had taken place, where he had thrown Karl at her feet in a fit of temper, from which she had run away like a child, it was hitting her very hard. She knew when she glanced at him that Garcia was thinking of the same things. Perhaps the way they had avoided the topic so long was a little ridiculous, but so much emphasis had been placed on Garcia getting well again, it was all Lucy had wanted to concentrate on, that was for sure.

“So,” he said, staring at her so intently she could feel it long before she ever glanced up to meet his gaze. “Here we are again.”

Lucy didn’t know where to begin. Though she had rehearsed it all a thousand times, now the moment was upon her, she really had no idea how to start, how to explain. She was prevented from trying when Garcia continued on, almost without pause.

“Lucy, there are so many things I need to tell you. First, I need to thank you for everything you have done for me and for my daughter. These past days alone, you have been... well, nothing short of an angel of mercy to us all.”

“Garcia, please don’t,” she urged him, shaking her head, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“I mean it,” he insisted. “And long before my illness, you have been everything that Iris and I could ever need. I think you have taught me equally as much as you have taught her, about things I hadn’t even known I needed to learn. You have made me a better man, Lucy Preston,” he promised her. “Which brings me to the second thing I have been wanting to tell you. I am truly sorry if I scared you that night with Karl,” he said, looking pained. “I was so... The thought of him, or anyone doing anything to hurt you, Lucy... I know I was out of control, but you know I would never... I could never hurt you.”

She could’ve sworn she saw real tears in his eyes then and Lucy swallowed hard before she could answer him, feeling equally as emotional as he looked.

“I know that,” she assured him. “I was never really afraid that you... What I mean is, I was never afraid of you for myself. Garcia, I trust you, I hope you know that, but more than anything, your behaviour that day, it just reminded me how little we really know about each other, and it’s not just on my side. There’s... there’s a lot that you don’t know about me either. _A lot_,” she reiterated, eyes going to her hands in her lap and staying there.

She had to tell him everything, she knew that she did, but to prevent him from speaking right now wouldn’t be fair. He had waited a long while to make his apologies and explanations, she wouldn’t deny him the chance now, but eventually, he would have to hear the truths she had to share too.

“Lucy?” he called for her attention and she dutifully met his eyes. “I feel... I feel as if there is an ocean between us,” he said, reaching out for her as much with his gaze as his hand. “Please?”

Nodding once, she rose from the chair and moved over to the chaise, seating herself beside him. It used to be so natural for them to just sit together, but today was different, this whole conversation put Lucy so much on edge. She was still unclear on how it would end, if it would mean her having to walk away for good. If that should happen, she had thought it would be better not to torture herself, being so close only to be banished so far away, and yet when he asked her to come closer, she couldn’t deny him. She couldn’t deny herself.

“You know,” he said, picking up her hand and holding it tightly, “I am sure that I will never deserve you, Lucy.”

“Don’t say that,” she urged him, but he went on regardless.

“You are such a beautiful, intelligent, extraordinary lady, and I could not love you more than I do,” he promised her faithfully, “but I understand that the way I offered you my heart and my hand was not what you would have wished for. I’m sorry, Lucy, for the circumstances of my proposal, but please believe, everything I told you then, everything I tell you now is true. I love you and I still hope that you would consider becoming my wife.”

Her mouth opened as if to answer him, though she hardly knew how to make her reply. Before she had the chance to really try, he continued on again.

“But before you can make such a decision, I need you to know everything about me.”

“That might take some time,” Lucy considered, unsure as to exactly what he meant.

He smiled then, that genuine smile that was so rare and, therefore, so much more special and worth coaxing out of him because of it. Lucy was unsure what exactly he was so happy or amused about now, but the genuine look of joy faded all too soon into a painful grimace.

“I should be clearer,” he realised aloud. “I need you to know what I am, what I do in my life. Where I go when I am not at home,” he said, meeting her eyes. “You have never asked me what my business trips entail.”

“I never really thought about it.” Lucy shrugged her shoulders, even as they also started to shake with nerves. “You’re a man of means, you conduct business to make your money and pay your staff... I honestly never gave much thought to exactly what it is that you do.”

“Good investment has made me as much money as I have,” he explained. “The trips I take are rarely in pursuit of those things. Most often, I am working for something else, something more... worthy,” he said thoughtfully.

Lucy frowned, not understanding what he could possibly mean. The staff always called Mr Flynn’s absences ‘business trips’ so that was what she assumed they were, but apparently not. He was doing something worthy, and yet he had begun to tell her of who and what he was like it was a confession, as if she may not like what she was about to hear.

“I don’t understand,” she admitted, shaking her head. “Garcia, if you’re helping people...?”

“Helping people, yes,” he agreed, meeting her gaze once more, “but as I’m sure you know, Lucy, not everybody in this world is so supportive of his fellow man as others. Some people, they would see this country, and even beyond, run very differently. They would have those that do not fit their ideal downtrodden, in chains, or eliminated altogether,” he said, clearly trying to be as careful of his wording as he could be, though Lucy understood his meaning well enough, perhaps too well. “There is a group of men, an organisation that is growing all the time, they would wish to change the very course of history. They would see those that are not exactly the same as themselves removed from society or just kept to the very bottom of the pile. It is complicated to explain to you, I would not wish you to know the details as many are horrifying, but believe me, Lucy, I am on the side of good in this fight. There are not so many of us yet, but we are doing what must be done to save those that are in danger. I am one of   
a secret organisation myself, but on the side of good, I promise you.”

Lucy felt the tears streaming from her eyes and simply did not know how to stop them. Her eyes fell closed and she just kept reminding herself to breathe, even as she began to scream inside her own mind, her arms wanting to thrash and rail against the memories that flooded over her unbidden. It was like drowning for a few horrible moments, until finally Garcia’s voice broke through it all.

“Lucy? Lucy, please,” he urged her, his hands now at her shoulders, pulling her closer, shaking her back to reality.

Her eyes popped open and met his fearful gaze. Taking a deep breath in, Lucy found her voice at long last. “I’m so sorry, Garcia,” she told him honestly. “I truly am so sorry.”

“Sorry?” he echoed, his expression showing as much confusion as concern by now. “Why should you be sorry? What is it you have done?” he asked, a slight edge to his voice that made Lucy wince in spite of herself.

“The people you were talking about, the organisation that you fight against,” she said, swallowing hard, trying to keep the shake from her voice but it would not leave her. “Rittenhouse,” she forced out at last.

Garcia slowly shook his head. “How do you...?”

“Because,” she said, making herself meet his eyes. “Because I ran from them. Because I... I couldn’t bear to be a part of that kind of evil, even though... even though I was born to it.”

That was it. At last, the confession she had needed to make too long was finally spoken. Lucy felt relieved in one way, but full of regret at the same time, as Garcia’s hands slipped down her arms and he drew away from her entirely. This was what she had feared. That the truth of her heritage would be revealed and this whole new life she had begun to build for herself just fell apart at her feet.

“You were...? Your family...?”

Garcia was in shock, it was written all over his face, and Lucy so wished she could help, but she had nothing else to give. She had confessed the truth and it was all she could do. Now she must wait for Garcia to digest that information and hopefully find some way to understand.

He got up from the chaise, pacing forward away from her. Lucy’s hand shot up to her mouth stifling a sob she tried in vain to keep inside. If he walked away from her now, after everything, it would break her, but she wouldn’t let him know it. If there was one thing, just one, that her heritage had provided her that she valued, it was the strength to keep going, come what may, to never give in, even when her heart was breaking.

The sudden laughter from Garcia was far from welcome when she heard it. Pained as it was, there was not an ounce of humour or relief in his tone, and when he turned to look at her, Lucy saw nothing warm in his gaze either.

“All this time,” he said, shaking his head, “I have been fighting a good fight against these people, these _animals_, and you... you have their blood in your veins?” he asked, looking so hurt and confused, Lucy could hardly bear it. “I let you into my house, into my family, into... _my heart_!” he confessed, one hand at his chest.

“Please, Garcia,” she urged him, throwing herself to her feet before him. “I know how it sounds, and I do understand what you’re feeling,” she swore to him, her hands reaching up to his head, turning his face back to her. “Nobody can be more appalled by what my family has done that I am, believe me. It’s why I ran. I left them long ago, gave up everything because I couldn’t bear to be a part of Rittenhouse. I wanted to do good for people too. I wanted my life to be worth something more.

“The man I told you about, the man I thought that I... that I loved. When I found him, I thought maybe, just maybe, I had found true happiness. I thought he was my escape from the past I hated so much. Then when he left me, I convinced myself that was my punishment, for ever thinking for a moment I deserved any kind of happy ending.”

The tears kept on coming, the pain and emotion trying to steal her voice at every turn, but Lucy continued. She was so determined to go on, until he truly understood as she needed him too.

“I’m not a bad person, Garcia. For a long time, I thought I had to be, that I couldn’t help it, that... that I was doomed somehow. Then I decided that my life could be whatever I wanted to make it, that I could be whatever I wanted to be. I chose to be the best of myself. I wanted to teach, to help others to understand that they could be the best of themselves too. I came here looking for sanctuary and I found a home. I found friends and family and... and you,” she told him desperately, unable to avoid noticing the strange turnaround of events, her own impassioned speech so strangely like his own, in this very room, when he asked her to marry him.

“I know you can’t feel the same about me now,” she told him painfully. “Believe me, I do understand, but I love you, Garcia. I swear, I don’t think I could ever love anyone as much as I love you, and when I thought I might lose you... I can’t... I just can’t...”

Words failed her then, voice breaking, body giving in to the emotion of it all as she fell against him, sobbing like her heart would break. It was sweet torture to feel Garcia’s arms around her then, his hands on her back, his face against her hair as he whispered words of comfort Lucy felt she could not deserve and they went to their knees together. The whole thing was too much for either of them to take, him physically unable to hold the both of them up right now, her just too tired to try to be strong anymore.

“Lucy,” he said eventually, hands at her shoulders as he pushed her back enough to see her face. “You don’t have to be alone anymore, draga,” he promised her, forehead pressed against her own. “We have each other and that never has to change. You know I love you, don’t you?” he said, pulling back again to look at her, raising her chin on his finger until she met his gaze. “Lucy, I meant what I said, I could not love you more than I do.”

“How?” she said, voice strained from crying. “How can you? Now that you know...”

“Lucy, I was shocked but... but you cannot choose your blood,” he told her what she already knew, though it brought her little comfort until he said it himself. “And when you had the chance, you ran from what you knew was wrong. Even if you hadn’t, I... I’m not so sure I could give you up now, not for all of the world.”

“Garcia...” she gasped, unable to say more, not needing to try as he captured her mouth with his own.

If anyone had seen them, they might have thought they had gone mad, but Lucy wasn’t so sure she had it in her to care anymore. She had felt like she was losing her mind more than once since she came to Tempus Manor, but at last, things were finally starting to make sense.

At least the truth had been shared now, about Garcia’s life, about her own. They knew the best and the worst of each other and still they could say, with all their hearts, that they were in love.

“Yes,” she said softly when they finally parted.

“Yes?” he echoed uncertainly as he looked at her.

“If you... Well, you asked me a question before.”

“I did,” he said, smiling at the realisation of what she meant. “Lucy Preston, will you do me the great honour of agreeing to be my wife?”

“Yes, Garcia Flynn, I would love to,” she told him honestly, laughing and crying at the same time as he kissed her over and over and over.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the happy ending, folks ;)

It was decided that Iris should be the first to know about Garcia and Lucy’s engagement and that her father should be the one to tell her. Breakfast the next morning was to be the time and place, and even though Lucy wouldn’t be in attendance herself, she woke up shaking with nerves about the whole thing. It thrilled her to know she would soon be married to Garcia and she would love to believe that Iris would be happy about the whole thing too, but there was no way to be sure, especially with children, especially in circumstances like these.

They hadn’t really discussed who else was to be told or when, though Lucy decided that she definitely wanted Jiya to know her good news, even if the rest of the staff should perhaps be left in the dark until such time as Garcia decided to make an announcement. Lucy made a point of spiriting Jiya away as soon as possible and, down in the basement, out of harm’s way, she shared her happiness.

“That’s wonderful, Lucy,” Jiya told her with a smile, though even in the half-light, Lucy could tell the expression did not reach her eyes. “I’m so happy for you... and for Mr Flynn, of course.”

“Jiya?” Lucy called to her as her friend got up and moved away. “I don’t... I’m sorry if I’ve said something wrong. I thought you’d want to know-”

“It’s not that,” Jiya insisted, shaking her head, eventually turning back. “Lucy, I promise, I am happy for both of you, I truly am, it’s just that... well, it’s starting to seem as if I’ll never be that happy myself. For me... for me and Rufus,” she said more quietly, moving closer to Lucy again and ensuring no-one else might ever overhear. “Our situation is so impossible for so many reasons. I sometimes wonder how much longer we can go on like this, hardly seeing each other, hiding and hoping and never getting any further forward and then... I haven’t heard from him in a while now,” she admitted then. “I don’t even know if he... Anything could’ve happened to him.”

The tears came then and Lucy leapt up to wrap her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly. She tried to be comforting, to reassure Jiya that everything could work out in the end, but she also didn’t want to lie to her. She was right, anything could have happened to Rufus. Even if it hadn’t, with all the barriers standing between him and Jiya, with the way the world was, it was so hard.

It was a miracle to Lucy that her own happiness had been found like this, at Tempus Manor, with the man who employed her, of all people. A man who fought on one side of a war most didn’t even know was happening, while the rest of her family stood on the other side of the line.

Jiya was soon thanking Lucy for her kind words and then leaving to get back to her work, the both of them knowing that she didn’t really feel any better about her own situation than she had before. Lucy so wanted to help, to have her friend be as happy as she was. The only possible way she could see that happening was if she talked to Garcia about Jiya and Rufus, something she had sworn she would never do, and yet.

“Lucy,” he said, smiling widely as he came across her in the hallway, just a few minutes after her talk with Jiya. “What is wrong, draga?” he asked, clearly noting her own expression was far from happy.

“It’s... um, it’s nothing,” she said, waving away his concern. “I was just thinking about something, but it doesn’t matter right now. Did you talk to Iris?” she asked then, a different kind of worry gnawing at her as she changed the subject.

“I did,” he confirmed, the smile returning to his face in a second. “I am happy to say I never saw her so thrilled about anything. She will be honoured to call you her step-mother, Lucy.”

“Oh,” she said, sighing with relief. “Oh, Garcia, I was so worried that... I mean, we’re good friends, Iris and I, but there is a big difference between a teacher and a... a mother-figure,” she said carefully.

“Lucy.” Garcia stepped closer, his hands at her shoulders. “You must not worry so much about what you say. Iris knows she had a mother who loved her very much, but Lorena is gone,” he said, looking sad even as he spoke the words. “I cannot pretend I didn’t love her very much, but she would want us, Iris and I, to be happy even now. I know she would approve of you, Lucy. Strange as it might sound to you, I think if she were here, she would love you too.”

Lucy wasn’t sure she entirely believed that, but if Lorena was half the woman that Garcia described, she had to think that at least the woman wouldn’t disapprove of Lucy stepping into the shoes she had been forced to abandon herself far too soon.

Nodding her head in understanding, she allowed herself a moment in her fiancé’s arms before stepping back and looking all around, as if expecting to be caught doing something wrong.

“Um, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” she admitted then, “but I’m not sure...”

“You know by now there’s nothing you can’t say to me, surely,” he said, frowning a little at her discomfort. “Lucy, if we are going to be husband and wife...”

“I know,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or that I don’t want to tell you things,” she insisted. “It’s just, this is so... delicate,” she said awkwardly. “It has to do with Jiya.”

“Ah.” Garcia nodded knowingly. “I think we should go elsewhere to have this conversation,” he said then, taking her arm and leading her towards his study. “After all, I’m sure you know by now how the walls here have ears?” he said with a look.

Lucy was amazed but immediately wondered why she should be. If she was understanding Garcia correctly then perhaps he knew all about Jiya and Rufus after all, which almost brought up more questions that it answered...

* * *

Lucy had never seen the whole staff assembled like this, but then, it was a special occasion. It was the day after she had talked to Garcia about Jiya’s situation and he had called everybody together into the main foyer to speak with the full staff. Lucy was to be there, Iris too, and there was much chatter about why they had all been called together in such a way.

“Good morning, everybody,” said Garcia then, several steps up on the main staircase with Iris and Lucy nearby as he called for attention. “Thank you for gathering like this. I know you all have better things to be doing than listening to me talk, but I do have just a couple of announcements to make. I’m sure when you hear them you will realise that I am not wasting your time at all.”

He glanced at Lucy then and she found him a smile, even as her hands shook where they rested on Iris’ shoulders. She was happy enough to be marrying Garcia, but she was perfectly aware that some amongst the staff were unlikely to appreciate her rise from one of them to one above.

“The first of these announcements may not come as such a surprise to most of you,” Garcia continued then. “I hope very much that you will join me in the happiness I am feeling when I tell you that Miss Lucy Preston has agreed to be my wife. I know she has made many friends here and hope you will all continue to support her when she becomes mistress of this house.”

There was a smattering of whispers and murmurs amongst the staff then and Lucy had to remind herself to breathe, half-expecting someone to say something untoward, or at the very least glare at her or something. She was comforted by the number of smiles she saw in the crowd and further heartened as Garcia went on speaking.

“I should like to make it clear that if anyone here is _not_ happy with the arrangement, you should feel free to pack up your things and go. That is all I will say on that subject,” he told the staff firmly and with a look on his face that was not to be trifled with.

It meant more to Lucy than she could ever have told him and she hoped the grateful smile she wore when he looked at her then said it all. Her smile grew more real by the second as he turned back to the assembled staff and made his second announcement.

“The other news I have concerns all of you more directly, in that two additional people will be joining you in ensuring the smooth running of this house. I have been in communication for some time with a gentleman in the area who, I shall admit, barely earns the title of gentleman at all. He need not be named here, but let’s just say that he is not the kind of man I would usually do business with. However, on this occasion, I had a very particular reason for doing so,” he said, eyes falling on Jiya, whose expression showed a perfect mix of confusion and hope, Lucy noted.

“Friends, may I introduce to you the newest members of our household,” he said, gesturing to Lucy who dutifully moved down the steps to the door and opened it up.

Two men walked into the foyer, to the obvious astonishment of those within. Jiya had the largest reaction of anyone, but that was to be expected. At first, she just looked completely shocked, and then, all at once, she was rushing across the hardwood floor and throwing herself into the arms of the man she loved.

Lucy looked up to meet Garcia’s eyes and they shared a smile before he went back to facing his assembled staff.

“These two gentlemen, who you can see that Jiya is already acquainted with, are Rufus, and his father, Connor. I hope you will make them both very welcome. Thank you for your time.”

He stepped down from the stairs then as many of the staff dispersed back to their duties, a few others hanging around to meet the new faces and find out what was going on with regards to Jiya and Rufus, no doubt.

“I still can’t believe you knew all this time,” Lucy said with wonder in her voice as she and Garcia stood watching Jiya and Rufus together.

“Not much happens in this house that I don’t know about,” he told her, kissing the top of her head when no-one was watching. “I had been hoping to buy his freedom a great deal sooner, but I knew he would never leave without his father. Bartering for the lives of two men with the kind of zvijer that would use them as their owner was doing... It was not so easy.”

“You must’ve laid out a lot of money,” said Lucy, looking up at him.

“A small price to pay,” Garcia told her, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Lucy gazed up at him then and was sure she had never loved him more.

* * *

It was very late but Lucy simply could not sleep. The excitement of the day hadn’t tired her out so much as built her up into such a frenzy that rest simply wasn’t an option. Though her thoughts had been with Jiya and Rufus for part of the time, now her head was full of Garcia.

This afternoon, they had talked more about their wedding. It would be nothing so fancy, neither of them wanted that, but it would still be quite the special occasion. Unfortunately, even a small wedding required preparation. Clothes to be made, a feast to be prepared, all the usual components of such an important day. That meant waiting, something Lucy wished she was better at doing, but she wasn’t at all.

Every time Garcia kissed her, she felt as if she were losing her mind. She longed to be closer, to lie with him as she had in her dreams too many times to count. It was evident to her that he wanted her just as badly, and yet they were unmarried and must keep their distance.

Perhaps if the distance were actually greater, Lucy would be able to sleep, but his room was right above hers, a room she knew so well after spending days at Garcia’s bedside when he was sick. She could imagine him there now, more than the picture of health, not yet her husband, perhaps, but everything she desired.

Pushing her face into her pillow, Lucy tried to think of anything else, but she couldn’t manage it. As the clock struck midnight, she was sure she was never going to sleep tonight, and if by some miracle she could, her dreams would only be sweet torture as they so often were. Sitting up in her bed, she took a deep breath and made her decision.

Five minutes later she was outside his door, tapping lightly with her knuckles and praying no-one but Garcia heard. Her back was against the wall by the door, eyes darting left and right as she waited, and then finally the door opened. Looking up at him, Lucy met his eyes and immediately felt her knees go weak. He didn’t say anything at first, neither did she, but he had to know why she was there. What other explanation could there be but one?

“Lucy,” he said softly as she faced him, his hand at her hair, causing her eyes to fall shut at the contact. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

“But you’re not going to send me away,” she said definitely, looking up at him once more, her words a statement rather than a question - she was so determined now. “Garcia, I know we’re not married yet, but we made a promise to each other, and you and I both know... well, neither of us are amateurs,” she said pointedly.

Stood there shivering in her nightdress from far more than cold, Lucy was sure she should’ve been nervous, but she wasn’t at all as Garcia took her hand and gently pulled her into his room.

“You’re sure, Lucy?” he checked before he had quite closed the door behind her.

“I’m sure,” she said, nodding her head. “Aren’t you?”

The door clicked shut then and, without a word, he swept her into his arms, kissing her deeply. The passion ignited between them, as it always did, only this time there was no thought of restraint. He carried her to his bed, the two of them finally laying down together, both sure that they would regret no part of this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Croatian translation:  
zvijer - monster/brute/beast


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has left comments and/or kudos - thank you, it is much appreciated :)

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful,” said Lucy, her fingers trailing down the edge of the gilt picture frame.

“Funny you should say that. I was just thinking the very same thing,” said Garcia, his eyes on her alone as he approached, picking up her left hand in his and kissing it where the gold band sat proudly on her third finger

“I was talking about the photograph,” she told him definitely, “but thank you anyway,” she said, smiling widely.

“It is quite the portrait,” Garcia agreed of the picture, looking at it himself now.

When it came to his wedding day, Lucy knew he had no real plans to share it with another couple, but Rufus had not been in the house one day before he had proposed to Jiya, and Lucy had become insistent. Garcia Flynn declared he could deny his bride nothing at all and didn’t even pretend to try. Unconventional as it may have been, he and Lucy were married alongside two people of his employ, though Garcia was happy enough to look upon them as so much more than that. They were family, both to him and to Lucy, and though she hadn’t known it were possible, she would swear her love for him only increased when he agreed to sharing their wedding day like that.

The photograph was particularly special and took pride of place on the wall above the mantle. Garcia and Lucy Flynn with Iris, and Rufus and Jiya Carlin. Lucy sighed as she stared at it, her hand still held tightly in her husband’s own.

“Sometimes I still expect to wake up and find this was all a dream,” she admitted, smile wavering. “There is still this awful fear in me that... that I’m still there. That I never escaped and...”

“Lucy.” Garcia’s voice cut through her building panic and brought her back to reality in a moment, his free hand at her face encouraging her to meet his eyes. “I promise you, for as long as there is breath in me, no harm will come to you. You don’t ever have to go back to those people. You don’t ever have to be afraid of anything.”

“I know,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry, I just... Sometimes, I wonder how any of this happened. I never thought I could be this happy.”

Pulling her closer, Garcia kissed the top of her head and held her tight against him. She hugged him back, just as hard, never wanting to let go.

“You know, though I had Iris and the people here to care for me, my life was not... My heart felt hollowed out, in a way, like a piece of me was missing. I fought against Rittenhouse, I was the best father I knew how to be, the best master of this house too, but nothing could take away the ache for something, some_one_... and then you came into my life,” he said, pulling back to look at her.

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Lucy, smiling up at him, even as her eyes filled with tears. “I had no idea what my life was supposed to be, how I could ever feel like I belonged anywhere after everything. I used to pray to God for answers... and he led me to you.”

“He led us to each other,” her husband corrected her, leaning down to kiss her lips. “We were a little stubborn about it at first, but we got there eventually.”

She laughed at that, she couldn’t help it. “Stubborn? Us? Surely not,” she joked. “I only know I couldn’t be happier than I am right now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Garcia checked, moving in to kiss her one more time.

Perhaps they should have known better than to get so carried away in the parlour, but after barely a month of marriage (and just a little longer since the first time they lay together) it was still so difficult to keep their passion in check. Their ardour was soon dampened, however, when the door swung open and Iris came running into the fray.

“You’re still here,” she said happily. “I thought you might leave without saying goodbye.”

“Can you hear these things we are being accused of, draga?” Garcia asked Lucy, wide-eyed with fake shock, even as he smiled. “That we would leave our precious girl without so much as a goodbye?”

“I can hardly believe it,” Lucy agreed, continuing the joke as Garcia swept Iris up into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“You know better than that, mališa. Lucy and I are not leaving until this afternoon,” he reminded her, putting her back on her feet. “And if those plans changed, you would have been the first to know,” he insisted, tapping her on the nose.

“I’ll miss you so much.” Iris sighed, looking up at Lucy. “Will you miss me?”

“So much,” Lucy insisted, kneeling down to her level, “but we’ll be back before you know it, and in the time we’re away, you can plan some more Croatian lessons for me. You know, we’ve all been so busy lately, I’ve really fallen behind.”

“I can do that.” Iris grinned, throwing her arms around Lucy’s neck and hugging her tightly.

Lucy hugged back, smiling widely when a huge kiss was planted on her cheek before they parted. Iris moved over to her papa then, reaching out for a hug and a kiss from him too, and wishing them both a safe trip. She was gone again in a moment, calling over her shoulder that she had lots to teach Lucy when she got back.

“She loves you, you know?” said Garcia when Iris was gone.

“I don’t think I could love her more if she was mine,” Lucy admitted, smiling at him. “And she really is an excellent Croatian teacher.”

“Better than me?” her husband asked her, tilting his head and smirking slightly as he waited for her answer.

“Much better,” said Lucy with a completely straight face, but the expression soon crumbled at the incredulous look on Garcia’s own face. “You’re both very good teachers,” she confessed then. “You just have very different teaching methods,” she said with a look. “And I learn very different things.”

“Volim te,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward so hard she collided with his chest, “moja predivna žena.”

“I ja tebe volim,” she replied softly, “moj zgodni muž.”

She watched his eyes grow darker at the sound of those words from her. It wasn’t so much what she said, Lucy knew, as the fact she had bothered to learn to say it in his own language.

When he kissed her then, it was with the kind of passion they really should keep to their bed chamber, and yet, there was no will in her to tell him to stop, at least not until she remembered that Iris had left the door open.

“One day,” she said breathlessly, pulling away from him, “we’re going to look up and find we have a scandalised audience of a dozen people watching us.”

“There is nothing scandalous about a man kissing his wife,” Garcia insisted. “But I accept that you have a point. Besides, I suppose we should be ensuring we are ready for this trip. You are sure that you’re comfortable with...”

“If you ask me about Karl again, Garcia, I may actually scream,” Lucy warned him. “I told you, he has apologised so many times for what happened, we made our peace. He’s part of the fight against Rittenhouse, the same as you and I, which means he is welcome on this trip, and any other that we go on in the future,” she said definitely.

“You are a very impressive woman, Lucy Flynn,” he said pointedly. “Have I ever told you that?”

“I think so,” she said, pretending to consider it, “but it never hurts to hear it again,” she said with a smile, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I need to speak with Jiya before we leave, but I’ll be ready on time, I promise. Three o’clock?”

“Three o’clock.” Garcia nodded once.

Lucy headed for the door, hand reaching for the knob, when she suddenly turned back to see her husband looking questioningly at her.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly. “I know I’ve said it before and that you told me I don’t need to say it again, but it’s not every man that would agree to let his wife be a part of... of something like this.”

“I suppose I’m not every man,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s true,” Lucy agreed easily.

“As far as I’m concerned, you are I are partners now, not just husband and wife, but in all ways,” he said as he walked over to her. “We’re going to be quite the team, Lucy.”

“Yes, I think we are,” she agreed, smiling up at him. “We’re going to make a real difference, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he promised her. “And if we can get her back from them,” he said, picking the locket up from her chest for a moment, “then we will. I swear, Lucy, we will do everything that we can for Amy.”

Lucy smiled bravely and nodded her head. “I know we will,” she said definitely.

She left then, to go and see Jiya, just as she had said, before they left for their trip. As she walked through the halls, Lucy found herself smiling at the familiar paintings on the walls, at the staff and their friendly greetings as she ran into them, and a warm glow build up in her chest. She still hoped they could retrieve her sister from Rittenhouse, bring Amy into the light, away from those who had convinced her she had to live in the darkness. Still, even if they failed, and unfortunately, there was a good chance that they might, at least Lucy wasn’t alone any more. She had a home and a family here. She bore the name of Flynn and held the heart of the man she shared it with. 

There were a lot of stories told about the house on the hill. Actually, most stories were much more about the man who lived in the house rather than the building itself, but none of it really mattered to her anyway.

Lucy Preston was without regret about coming to Tempus Manor. She had fallen in love with the place, it’s master, his daughter, the staff, and everything else that made this their home. This was where she belonged and where she was staying, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Croatian translations:  
draga - beloved/sweetheart  
mališa - little one  
volim te, moja predivna žena - I love you, my beautiful wife  
I ja tebe volim, moj zgodni muž - I love you too, my handsome husband


End file.
